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gumnut-logic · 3 years

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Callisto (Part 8 - Recovery)

This one is over 4600 words to the point I considered cutting it in half. But lots happens so I’ve posted it whole. Now I just need to play catch up because I had a crappy couple of weeks and now I’m only about 500 words ahead of this. I have a few days off coming up, so wish me luck :D

As always, many thanks to the amazing @janetm74 @scribbles97 @tsarinatorment @vegetacide and science officer @onereyofstarlight You guys have helped me make this what it is. I so hope you are enjoying it.

For the first time in this story, I’ve slightly gone off plan and have had to add in a chapter because of it. Here’s hoping I can keep this going. We are now at 35,000 words which is approximately halfway.

Warnings: some whump.

Thank you for all your support with this fic. I doubt I could do it without all the cheerleading and support. You guys are just amazing ::hugs you so much::

Enjoy!

-o-o-o-

Jeff Tracy was a man of action and drive. Eight years in the depths of space had eroded the edges of his impatience, but hadn’t eliminated it.

So, sitting in Callisto Base watching his family work and not having anything much to do wasn’t in the best interests of his mental health.

But what could he do?

He had set up a kind of mobile control despite not being in control of anything. John had linked him into everything and he and Lee had pretty much taken over one of the command centres of the Base.

Grae hovered the entire time.

Jeff watched the well-oiled machine that was International Rescue with no small amount of pride. He watched them track down the lifesigns, survey the site, drill extra access, deploy Thunderbird Four and-

“Gordon!”

“Guys, get out of there! Now!”

The holographic image of the lake swelled and swept his sons away.

Jeff was on his feet without thinking.

Three of the five life signs on the strategy map darted erratically, one coming to an abrupt stop against the cavern wall, while the two others travelled some distance up the main tunnel before stopping suddenly.

“Thunderbird Five!”

“Please hold.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “John!”

Data was suddenly thrown at his terminal. His sons’ vitals sprung up and he was relieved to find them all strong. A sitrep appeared a moment later tracking where the wave had come from, probabilities of a recurrence, a site safety scan and a feed from the Dragonfly Pod.

Its lights were still on, one shining at an angle across the tunnel it had landed in, the other reflected back a glare of white and a blue as beautiful as an Earth sky in the early evening.

The first one explained why.

One of the Dragonfly’s legs was sticking up out of a solidified white mass.

Of ice.

The math added up in his head very abruptly and he was suddenly moving.

It was a sign that Lee and he still had that unspoken communication as the engineer didn’t even ask and just moved with him, following his mad run to the hangar without a word.

Alan and Gordon had left the second Dragonfly pod at the Base and Jeff was ever so grateful.

“What’s…where are you going?” Grae’s eyes were wide as they all skidded to the side of the pod.

“Three of my sons are buried in ice. Where do you think I’m going?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, climbing up into the cockpit with a leap of agility he hadn’t felt for years. With a nod from Lee, he snapped the hatch shut and grabbed controls he hadn’t used outside of a simulator in over a decade.

It was like returning home.

The Dragonfly took off for the airlock far above as the doors began their opening sequence without request.

-o-o-o-

John reacted the way he always reacted.

Without thought. There was no time for thought.

Hands moving across his console dragged as much information as he could from the static-fouled scans.

He blinked as the interference cleared somewhat.

A worried plea from his father John had no time for. A flick of his wrist and he mirrored his sources to his father’s terminal.

All three of his brothers had come to a halt. Gordon was still in the cavern, Four slammed up against a wall. Scott and Virgil were in the tunnel. Vital signs were still good, but there was no response from any of them.

No matter how much he yelled into comms.

One of the beacons had been swept away, causing the interference to intensify in that area, but the readings he had added up to a scenario that echoed past hell.

His father was already moving.

“John?” Alan’s voice was professional but sported an edge of terror.

“I’m coming down, Thunderbird Three.” He grabbed his helmet. “Dad is on his way out there. Do we have enough parts for a third Dragonfly?”

His brother’s voice solidified with the plan of action. “Yeah, Virg overcompensated as always. He packed stuff in as if he was planning to stay out here for a couple of years.”

John didn’t answer that. “Assemble another pod. I’ll see you down there asap.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos, align the Excel with the danger zone. Initiate elevator deployment.” He flung himself through his ‘bird. “I need as much information as you can give me. Relay on descent.”

“Yes, John. It appears that the water volume of the lake increased dramatically before the incident, but has now returned to its previous status.”

John slipped through the airlock to the elevator. He hit his comms. “Michael, there has been an incident. I am going down to the surface. You have the Excel.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. I will monitor.”

“Liaise with Eos.” He killed the connection as he entered the cockpit, his seat rotating towards him in welcome. “Eos, be nice.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Too bad. We need him.”

She grumbled in a way reminiscent of Virgil before coffee.

Maybe she had been taking notes.

He ignored it. “Send all information to my terminal here.” The elevator shuddered as it disengaged from Five and began its descent. The cockpit lit up with holograms.

He eyed the replay of the static-riddled scan as the lake swelled and overcame his brothers.

Four had been swept out of the water and washed ashore violently. Scott and Virgil, standing on that shore, hadn’t stood a chance.

One gloved hand reached up to poke the playback, pause and rewind. There had been a local seismic disturbance just before, epicentre to the north-east by a few hundred metres. Minor on an Earth scale, but since Callisto supposedly hadn’t had any major crustal movements in eons, it was unusual in the extreme.

“Eos, pull the Base seismic records. Have they detected anything like this before?”

The elevator’s thrusters fired as it hit the faint atmospheric boundary.

“Their system has recorded several incidents, but nothing of this magnitude.” Eos’ voice shifted to one of concern. “Incidents have been increasing recently. There have been three in the past month. John, one was recorded by the Base system the same day as the five members of their crew disappeared.”

“What? Why wasn’t that mentioned?”

“Unknown.”

He stared at the scan. “Do we have any source for more water to reach the lake?” It hurt his physics sensibilities. Water should not exist as a fluid in this environment at all.

“None within sensor range.”

Damnit. He was used to being able to see everything.

“Deploy a net of probes. I want everything in a ten thousand kilometre radius as crystal clear as you can get it.” If there was a pun in there, he refused to acknowledge it.

“Yes, John. That will cover the entire surface of the moon.”

“Exactly.” Something weird was happening here and he wanted to know what. If he had to throw everything Thunderbird Five had at it, he would.

The elevator thrusters fired again and the moon appeared around his windows, followed by the striking red of Three.

“Alan, are you ready?”

“Pod assembled, Thunderbird Five. Awaiting your orders.” There was no tremble in his brother’s voice, but there was an anxious impatience.

The elevator touched down with a soft thud. Eos’ control was perfect. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You are welcome, John.” A pause. “Be safe.”

His lips tightened a little. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

She didn’t answer as he stepped out onto the moon.

-o-o-o-

Alan didn’t remember his mother, but he had four brothers who did and he knew far too well the pain of what had happened when she was taken from them.

The fact that three of those brothers were now buried in the space-ice equivalent of an avalanche was absolutely terrifying.

The water had managed to travel some distance before solidifying and trapping everything. As far as Alan could tell, his brothers were encased in ice.

If they had been on Earth their lives would be in peril. In space, they were at least wearing their spacesuits. But spacesuits could be damaged.

He didn’t let himself follow that train of thought. He couldn’t afford it right now. Instead, he followed procedure.

That was what procedure was for.

It was a matter of minutes before John was stepping off the space elevator, his tall brother as confident and professional as ever.

Part of Alan was still surprised when John directed him to take control of the pod. Perhaps it was because Alan was used to the control freak habits of his two eldest brothers?

“Get us down there Alan.” John was distracted, glaring at his wrist projector.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With John secure in the backseat, Alan threw them down the gaping hole his ‘bird had dug, through the mole’s extension and into the dry cavern below.

The dragonfly latched onto the beacons and they darted down the correct tunnel, glittering rock streaking past them as their twin beams of bright light hit everything.

Including the mass of white that that suddenly swelled up on one side of the tunnel.

It wasn’t quite a wave, more a slosh of water, frozen in motion.

“What the hell?”

“Edge down the tunnel a little further, Scott is...” But they were already there and the flash of blue and red was obvious.

His eldest brother was embedded in the ice halfway up the wall. Alan only had breath as he yanked the dragonfly to an abrupt halt, her claws leaving gouges in the ice. “Scott!”

He was out of the pod as fast humanly possible.

One of his brother’s arms was dangling free and Alan reached for it. “Scott?”

Limp, gloved fingers.

John already had a hand laser out and the red of its beam was cutting ice in a loose silhouette of their brother’s body. As they worked him free, bits of ice fell away to the floor. It was fragmentary. Somewhere between solid and hard packed snow. The water had obviously frozen so quickly, it was aerated enough to stiffen fully.

Fortunately, because Alan had the sudden realisation that spacesuits or no, if his brothers couldn’t expand their ribcages, they couldn’t breathe regardless. The sudden relief sprouted new terror.

John helped Alan lower their big brother to the floor.

“Sc…Scott?”

For a second, Alan thought it was John speaking, but his astronaut brother answered, voice urgent. “Virgil?”

No response.

“Thunderbird Two, status!” John was moving, long legs leaping in the low gravity, propelling him back to the pod. He reached inside and pulled out a large torch. “Alan, attend to Scott.” And then his brother was running further down the tunnel, light bouncing ahead of him, holographic map hovering over his wrist.

A further spark of terror was smothered in Alan’s brain as he turned back to his prone and unconscious eldest brother and began chipping and melting ice to free him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was lying flat on his back staring at white lit up by his helmet lights.

It took him a few solid minutes to realise exactly what he was looking at. His brain felt sluggish and was hurting like hell. He really needed more painkillers.

He automatically tried to calculate how long it was since his last dose and came up blank. There was time missing.

This realisation was quickly followed by the discovery that he wasn’t able to move.

God, his brain was slow. The first thought that came to mind was that yet another building had fallen on him. It happened far more often than he was willing to admit.

But then where was his exosuit?

He blinked slowly.

One arm was caught at an awkward angle and was protesting its position. His legs seemed to be splayed out evenly, though and his other arm seemed happy enough. Hell, there wasn’t really even much weight on him. He had definitely had worse.

But his chest was tight and breathing shallow. Something had him in its grip and he had to force down the visuals that came with that.

Not being able to move always sucked.

He really wished his head would stop hurting.

“Sc..Scott?” It was instinctual. In trouble, call for his big brother.

Need a hand.

“Virgil?” John’s voice. Johnny had the power to call Scotty, to get him help.

He opened his mouth to answer, but something shifted in the ice...ice...it was ice! Memories slammed into him of ice and snow and trapped and oh god...his sluggish brain couldn’t handle it.

“Thunderbird Two, status!”

John’s voice shook him.

Um, um…his heart was beating a mile a minute. He fought for control.

“Virgil? Son?”

Dad.

His father’s voice set off both relief and fear. Relief because of a deep-seated trust in his own father.

Fear because where was Scott? Scott should be here.

But Scott had been with him when the whatever had hit him.

Had hit him.

Water.

Space.

Callisto.

Sparkling crystal flickered in his mind’s eye.

“Scott?”

“Your brother is in good hands.”

Even his sluggish brain could see that as a non-answer. “Dad?”

“We’re digging you out.”

Oh.

As if to emphasize that statement there was a red flash and the world around him hissed. He closed his eyes as the light stabbed into his hurting head.

“Dad? Gordon?”

“Nearly there, son.”

Virgil’s heart clenched.

They uncovered his head first and Virgil teared up at the sight of his father’s worried expression above him. John was there as well, darting in and out of sight, obviously the source of the laser light.

“Johnny…”

There was a crack in the ice.

Ice.

His mind blanked in terror again.

Too many memories.

Far too many.

“Virgil! Look at me!” Dad’s voice held command and he had no choice but to obey. “You are safe.” His hand was being held and Virgil realised it had been cut from the ice. He tried to move his other arm, every heavy-lifting muscle he had straining against its restriction.

Another crack of stressed ice, a yelp from John and Virgil’s arm was suddenly free, ice fragments raining down on him.

Encouraged, he began working on his feet.

“Virgil, stay still just a moment longer.” John’s voice was strained.

Virgil wanted out.

“Virgil.” His Dad grabbed his flailing hand forced him to look at him, grey eyes reflecting the white ice. “Hold still, John is cutting you out.”

Yes, John was cutting him out. Red flickered amongst the white. Virgil swallowed and attempted to get the panic under control and found that he was trembling.

Damn.

He was a rescue operative. He should be calm.

The remaining weight on his belly was removed and he was finally able to take a deep breath.

It helped ever so much.

He closed his eyes and sought his centre.

And fell back on procedure.

If Scott was down, International Rescue was now his responsibility. He needed to be in control.

In control.

By the time John lifted the remaining ice off his legs, Virgil had found himself again. He clambered out of the ice as fast as he possibly could and shot to his feet.

And nearly fell flat on his face for the effort.

His father grabbed him and prevented his fall. “Virgil, sit down.”

There was a flicker of a medscanner, but Virgil was too busy assessing the situation to care. “Scott?”

“With Alan. Unconscious, but safe.”

“Gordon?”

“Still in the cave. Thunderbird Four is silent. I sent Lee. John is following him down.”

Damn. Virgil shook the last of the ice stuck to his uniform, straightened his baldric and took a step towards the direction of the cave, but was halted by a firm grip on his arm.

“You’re not going down there.”

Virgil spun on one foot and the world in all its glittering glory spun with him. “Gordon is down there.”

“John and Lee have him. You were buried in ice, Virgil.”

To his ultimate shame, Virgil shuddered at the concept.

But Gordon...

That grip on his arm tightened. “You’re coming with me.”

Virgil straightened, forcing steel into his spine. “With Scott unconscious, I am in command. I need to be down there.”

“No, you don’t.” His father took a step back up the tunnel, obviously intending to drag Virgil if he had to.

Virgil was no longer the scrappy kid who wanted to play with his paints instead of cleaning his room, and he stood fast.

His father had been in space a long time and his strength had paid the price.

There was no competition.

Buried in ice or not.

“Dad, I am going down to help with Gordon. Scott needs you. I’ll meet you up there the moment Gordon is safe.”

The need to be in two places at once, or more correctly four places, at least, was a common feeling Virgil had to ignore.

Gordon was the priority.

“I need an analysis of what happened. There was a wave. Why? See to Scott and Alan.” He reached up and gently peeled his father’s grip of his arm. “Thank you for helping me. Now I have to go help my brothers.” Turning he hit his comms, asked John for a sit rep and hurried down the tunnel.

He did not look back.

-o-o-o-

Scott had a headache.

That was the first hint of reality and not a new one in his life. He often woke with headaches, the only remaining question was what caused it this time.

“Hey, Scott, are you with us?”

Alan.

Several factors hit home at once. He was wearing his helmet, hence his uniform and Alan, only Alan, had said his name.

Mission.

He was sitting up before his brain had filled him in on the fact he was millions of miles away from home and gravity was a whole different thing on Callisto.

“Whoa!” Hands grabbed him. Hands that definitely belonged to Alan. The astronaut was crouched over him with worried eyes. “Take it easy. You might have a concussion.”

Head injury then.

“Mission status.”

“John’s gone after Gordon. Virgil is awake and out of the ice.”

Gordon. Gordon had been in the water. The weird water.

The very idea of Virgil being buried in ice again awoke horrors he did not want to face.

“Help me up.” Scott rolled himself over, ignoring the protests from his brother to stay put. His head protested very loudly and it became very apparent that the supposed head injury was not impressed with any movement.

Ow.

But, mission.

“Scott, what are you doing?” Another set of hands grabbed at him, which was probably a good thing because he was going down if they hadn’t. As it was, the whole world shifted as he was forcibly lowered to sit on the white, white ground again.

There was a flicker of yellow light and muttering from his youngest brother. “We need to get him back to base.” Alan’s voice was worried.

But Gordon. “I’ve got to go help Gordon.” He tried to stand up again, but too many hands held him down. His shoulders were grabbed and he found a pair of grey eyes staring at him. “Dad? Gordy is in danger.”

“I know son. John, Lee and Virgil will see to him.”

Virgil. He blinked. “Virgil was with me!” Again he struggled to get up.

His father held him down. “Virgil is very determined that he is fine. You, however, are not. You have a concussion. I will take you back to the Base and you will rest. Alan will help his brothers.”

“But-“

The hands on his shoulders squeezed. “Do I have to ask Virgil to reinforce that order?”

Virgil? Order? God, his head hurt.

But this was Dad. Dad knew what to do in space. Dad was...Dad was...

“Scott, you with me?”

He was shaken just a little and his head hated him for it. A groan and his hand encountered his helmet. Augh.

Space sucked.

“C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you into the pod.” Alan’s voice was gentle and professional. He was so proud of his little brother. “Yeah, well, I learnt from the best. Up you get.”

He was pulled slowly to his feet and he had to bite down or lose whatever the hell it was he had eaten last. There were steps and then he was sitting and familiar restraints were holding him in place.

He closed his eyes.

Gordon. He had to help Gordon.

“Your brothers will help him, Scott, you know that.”

But-

His world shook as the pod lifted. He glimpsed the back of his father’s helmet. Dad. Dad was driving. Dad had control.

He could let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan swallowed as their father launched the pod back down the tunnel, its headlights sparkling.

He had reported Scott’s status the moment they had the medscanner’s results and had received a very abrupt acknowledgement from Virgil.

It was unusual to have Virgil in command in space. It wasn’t his native environment and he didn’t venture into it very often. It, of course, wasn’t the first time, and Alan trusted Virgil with his life. But this was Alan’s turf, he needed to be there to help.

He leapt into the remaining dragonfly and dashed off down the tunnel.

It got tighter and tighter as he flew closer to the Crystal Cave, his access blocked by frozen lake water. For a moment he thought he was going to have to abandon the pod, but he was just able to squeeze through the entrance.

The lake was exactly as it had been. Calm and glittering in the pod’s headlamps. He turned slowly on the rocky beach to find Four, free of ice, jammed up against the wall beside the tunnel entrance. She was on her port side, cabin rammed into the rock.

Alan’s heart clenched as he set the dragonfly down.

Both John and Virgil along with Uncle Lee were attempting to gain access via the rear hatch. The ‘bird was made for water, but on the very rare occasion such as this, Brains had built space capable redundancies into her airlock.

How many submersibles in this universe were also space capsules in disguise?

But all this was redundant if the seals had been compromised.

A quick query of Thunderbird Five reassured Alan that Gordon’s vitals were still strong. There was still no response from their fish brother, but he was alive and relatively stable and Four reported no seal ruptures.

Yet.

Virgil grunted as the back of Four was slowly cranked open. Uncle Lee and his engineer brother were putting all their muscle into heaving the hatch open while John slipped into the vehicle.

A moment later the door was shoved shut again and Alan was surprised to see Virgil seal it with a hand laser.

Tired eyes caught Alan’s. His brother didn’t need to explain why he was doing what he was doing.

“Inner airlock door is now compromised.” John’s voice was calm and sure despite the subject matter. “Proceeding to the cockpit.”

Alan stared at Virgil a moment, caught by his haggard expression before hurrying around Four towards her belly viewports.

All he could see was Gordon’s feet. No matter how he shone his hand light through those windows, he could see nothing more. Gordon’s pilot’s seat obscured everything.

For it to be in that position it had to have been severed off its mountings.

Hell.

Determined, Alan scrambled around Four’s nose and tried to find her front viewports. Everything was obscured by rock.

Crystal glittered mockingly at him, an almost scarlet chunk of quartz sticking out of the wall and falling over as if it was reaching for Four.

Alan fought the urge to shove it away from his brother’s ‘bird.

“Cockpit hatch is non-operational. Eos, relay through my suit sensors and give me a detailed report on Gordon’s position.” John’s voice was ever so calm.

Alan wanted to scream.

He hurried back to the lower ports and stared at his brother’s feet.

Again Gordon had been crushed in his ‘bird. How hurt was he this time. How long would he take to recover?

Virgil spoke up and Alan was startled to find his engineer brother and Uncle Lee standing beside him. Virgil was standing ramrod straight. “Eos, can you pull any medical data?”

“Please hold.” The AI’s voice was crisp and professional. “Compensating for interference.”

Damned interference. Alan was so sick of static. Their comm lines and sensor feeds were usually perfect. What was it with this place?

A big hand gently wrapped around his arm.

“I’m fine, Virgil.”

The hand did not let go.

“Thank you, Eos.” How did John stay so calm? “Cutting into the cockpit now.”

Virgil’s wrist control lit up and projected the sensor data he had requested from Eos. True to this place, parts flickered and there was some pixilation, but a clear outline of both Gordon and John inside Four was all the reassurance it could be.

Gordon was curled up on the ‘floor’ of his ‘bird, on what had been Four’s portside viewports.

The laser cutter in John’s hand flared up brightly as he cut through the cockpit hatch mechanisms.

Red light flickered through the marine acrylic enough to catch on Alan’s uniform.

“His right arm is broken again.” Virgil sighed. “He’s going to be so pissed.”

“I’m in.” And John was. Light lit up the viewports, quickly followed by the yellow of a medscanner.

“Oh, thank god.” Beside him, Virgil visibly deflated in relief. The hologram lit up with Gordon’s full medical details. A red alarm hovered over one arm where the break snapped his right ulna and his head had an orange flag that pinpointed a likely concussion. But other than that, Gordon appeared whole and safe, his spacesuit undamaged and airtight. Alan’s shoulders dropped almost as much as Virgil’s.

“He’s safe to move, John.” No doubt John knew that, but Virgil obviously had a need to confirm it anyway. He had a habit of doing that. Alan wasn’t really sure who it was for, Virgil’s brothers or himself.

The next few moments involved cutting open the rear hatch of Four again. This time there was the hiss of escaping atmosphere as Virgil took the entire door off the sub, no longer needing to worry about Gordon’s suit integrity.

John emerged carefully carrying his unconscious brother, Gordon’s helmeted head limp on one shoulder, his arm in an emergency splint, no doubt from one of Four’s first aid packs.

“Vincent, I’m thinking you boys need to take your brother back to base.”

Alan suddenly realised they were a pod or two short to carry all of them. There were five operatives and only one pod.

Uncle Lee eyed Virgil, his lips thin. “Albert, you could fly George while Vincent, John and I dig out the other pod.”

Virgil shifted his feet as he translated that, and Alan frowned at him. His engineer brother was wrecked. Alan could see it in his eyes. Understandable

Virgil’s nod was firm, regardless. “FAB. Alan, you’re with Gordon. John, what is the impact of the interference on Eos’ capability to pilot the pod if necessary?”

Their space brother was looking down at Gordon’s face frowning. “Eos is deploying a moon-wide probe net. We can use them to strengthen the signal. I think that above ground, Thunderbird Five should be able to pilot reliably. I would not recommend attempting it underground.”

Virgil nodded again before striding over to Alan’s pod and, climbing up and throwing the hatch back, began reconfiguring the backseat to transport their injured brother.

Alan hurried over to help and within minutes, John had secured their unconscious aquanaut brother prone on his side in the back of the pod.

Silent, eyes closed, non-responsive.

Alan took off smoothly and with as much care as possible, flew back up the tunnel, heading above ground and back to Callisto Base.

His last glance at the Crystal Cave outlined the shapes of two brothers and an uncle standing ever so alone in a giant cavern that had tried to kill three of his brothers.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Lee Taylor #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #callisto

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fandomrewrites · 3 years

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Season 3a; Episode 11: Alpha Pact

Hello all! After this one there is only one more chapter of season 3a! If you guys are liking the story and want to be added to the taglist let me know! As always constructive criticism is welcomed. And please make sure to answer my pinned post if you like the 100!

Season 3a; Episode 11: Alpha Pact

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: panic attack, swearing

Word Count: 4,112

Season 3a masterlist

Hearing someone running down the stairs, I turned to see Stiles. "Where's Scott? Where's my mom?"

Stiles sighs, "Jennifer took your mom. And Scott..." He trails off.

"Stiles, what happened?"

"He went with Deucalion." My mouth falls open in shock, unsure of how to process this new information. Rather than thinking about it right now I decided to turn back around to try and get Derek to wake up.

After a few more agonizingly long minutes Derek slowly blinks his eyes open. Spotting me and Stiles above him, he pushes himself into a sitting position and asks, "Where is she?"

"Jennifer? Gone." Stiles answers.

"With my mom." I quietly add, still trying to process the fact that my only two family members are with psychopaths.

"She took her?" Derek questions.

Stiles nods, "Yeah. And if that wasn't enough of a kick to the balls, Scott also left with Deucalion. So get up. The police are coming and we need to get you the hell out of here."

Stiles and I both help Derek off of the elevator floor, "What about Cora?" The Alpha asks, concerned for his sister.

"She made it out with Peter and Isaac." I answer as we make our way to the exit.

"You should go with him, (Y/N/N)." Stiles speaks up.

I quickly shake my head, "No, I'm staying with you." Stiles sighs but nods.

Before Derek gets the chance to leave, I pull him into a quick hug. "Be careful. And please keep us updated."

Derek awkwardly pats my back, "Uh, yeah. You too."

Stiles raises his eyebrow in question once Derek is gone, "What? I'm his favorite. I can get away with doing things like that." I shrug in response.

Stiles shakes his head, though a small smile forms on his lips. "Let's go wait for the cops." He says, leading me over to the waiting room chairs.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles and I sat side-by-side holding tightly to each other's hand. We needed some sort of comfort since both of our parents were taken by Jennifer and Scott decided to be friendly with the demon wolf.

We looked up at the sound of the hospital doors opening. My mouth fell open as I saw an FBI agent making his way towards us, "Do you think he saw me? Can I make a run for it?" I quietly ask Stiles.

"I'm pretty sure he saw you." He gave my hand a squeeze. "I'll be right here for you the whole time."

Once the Agent approaches I quickly look down at mine and Stiles entwined hands, refusing to make eye contact. I start focusing on my breathing, counting inside my head but also focusing on the words exchanged between the two guys near me.

"A Stilinski at the center of all this mess. What a shocker." My jaw clenches at his words and I can feel Stiles becoming more annoyed by the second. "Though I do wish you weren't here, (Y/N)."

Neither Stiles nor I answer. "Do you think you can give me some answers without the usual level of sarcasm?"

"If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid." Stiles replies, glaring at the man.

I start to play with Stiles fingers as I hear the Agent speak once more, "Where's your dad and why has nobody been able to contact him?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen him in hours." Stiles answers.

"Is he drinking again?"

"What do you mean again? He never had to stop." Stiles spits out.

"That was you." I mumbled under my breath, but both men heard me.

The agent sighs but chooses to ignore my words, "But he did have to slow down. Is he drinking like he used to?"

"How about next time I see him I give him a field sobriety test? We'll do the alphabet starting with F and ending with U." Stiles angrily says, making me smile lightly.

"How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?" The agent asks, trying a different approach.

"We don't know. We were stuck in the elevator the whole time." Stiles answers, sticking to the lie we came up with earlier.

"You're not the one who put the name on the doors, are you?"

For the first time in the conversation I look up, exchanging a look with Stiles. "What name?" We ask together.

"Argent. Do you know who that is?" Stiles and I both nod in response, not feeling the need to answer considering the agent probably already knows who they are too.

"Well you can leave Stiles, I would like to talk with my daughter."

"I stopped being your daughter the day you left me and Scott. If Stiles is leaving I am too. And you can't make me stay." I glare at the man. I look back to Stiles and tug on his hand, "Come on."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles and I quickly make our way to the Argent's to let them know that their name was left on the elevator doors at the hospital. "The word is Guardian, Allison. More than anyone, you know that's a role I haven't exactly lived up to lately." Mr. Argent says to his daughter.

We move down the hall, walking into Mr. Argent's office. "But she took Mrs. McCall and Stiles' father. That's not a coincidence." Allison argues.

"I'd also consider the fact someone put your name in large block letters on the elevator doors. That kind of felt like a pretty big warning to me." Stiles adds.

"I think it might have been Morrell. I think she knows a lot more than she lets on. She might even be trying to help us."

"Well she needs to get on that a lot faster since the lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away."

Stiles fell into a chair as I chewed on my bottom lip. "Stiles, don't give up hope." Mr. Argent says, looking at the teenager.

"They could already be dead."

"I don't think so. There's something about Jennifer's tactics. It's like she's still positioning. Still moving pieces into place."

"And you're one of them." Allison says.

"Okay." Mr. Argent sighs, "Then let's not wait around to see her next move."

He lays out a map then continues speaking, "Everything she's done has been on a Telluric Current. So Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere on one of the Currents, right?"

"That would make sense." I answer. Though Mr. Argent is looking at Stiles.

"Stiles, if we're going to find them, we need your help."

"You seriously want to go after her? Have you even seen what she's been able to do? She tossed Scott across the room like it was nothing." I place a comforting hand on Stiles shoulder as he speaks, understanding his concern and frustration.

"What if she just takes you like the others? I mean, no offense, but what's the difference between you and them?" Stiles continues.

"I'm carrying a .45." Mr. Argent places the gun on top of the map. "Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face. But, personally, I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off. We've got one priority right now. Find your mom," He says looking at me.

He then turns to Stiles, "And your dad. We've got a map and every clue we need to figure this out. The only thing we don't have is time. Which is why I need all three of you."

"We can do this. We have to." I say, giving Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze.

Stiles nods in response, "Where do we start?" We all gather around the map as Mr. Argent pulls out a black light.

"The place where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found. I think the placement has to do with the strength of the Current. So there's the School, the Animal Clinic, the Bank."

"What about the motel?" Stiles asks.

"I don't think she'd take them that far."

"This still looks like too much ground to cover. We could spend weeks looking at all the possibilities." Allison says.

"She must have some sort of pattern that she follows." I add in.

"She wouldn't use the same place twice, would she?" Stiles questions.

"Only if she didn't succeed the first time." Mr. Argent says. He moves his finger to point at the bank.

"Scott's boss?" Allison asks her father.

"Deaton. It was her only failure. That could mean something."

"So we should go check it out, right?"

"Definitely."

"But that's just one place so far. We need more help." Stiles says.

"What about Lydia?"

"Lydia? What can she do?" Mr. Argent asks.

"She's found a few of the bodies without meaning to. It has to be related to the supernatural but we're not sure what she is yet." I answer. I then turn to look at Allison, "We can try to see if she knows anything but she still doesn't know how to control it. And if they are still alive she may not even be able to help."

Allison and her father nod. They then turn to start collecting weapons so that they can go to the bank and try to find my mom and the Sheriff. Stiles and I look on in awe as we see the two Argent's pull out weapon after weapon. "I thought you guys were retired?" Stiles asks.

"Retired, yes." Mr. Argent says, "Defenseless, no. Now make sure your phone's on. If you hear from Scott, let us know immediately."

"I'm thinking that's going to be kind of unlikely." At Stiles' words, he, Allison and I share a look.

"The three of you, try to remember he's just doing what he thinks is right. I've seen that seventeen year old boy come through more often than most men I've known. Don't give up yet."

"I'll never give up on my brother." I say, a look of determination on my face. Stiles gives a nod as we turn our attention to Allison.

She isn't paying attention to us but rather looking towards the door. We follow her gaze to see Isaac, "How did you get in here?" Mr. Argent asks.

"Through her window." Isaac replies, glancing at Allison. "Sorry. I just. I want to help. I can't shoot a gun or use a crossbow. But I'm starting to get pretty good with these." He opens his hand to reveal his claws.

"We'll take it." Mr. Argent says.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles and I are now sitting in Lydia's room, telling her about what occured at the hospital. "I don't believe it. Scott can't really be with them. He can't be." She says, shaking her head.

"You didn't see the look on his face. It was the same one I saw on my mother when the doctors told her there was nothing they could do. It was just total hopelessness." Stiles replies.

"I still think he'll come through. It's Scott we're talking about. He'll never do anything to harm someone." I say.

"What do I do?" Lydia asks, "I mean I get that I'm like some kind of human Geiger counter for death. But I don't know how to turn it on and off yet. All I know is she tried to kill me because of..." She trails off.

"Because of what? Lydia?" I ask, lightly grabbing my best friend's hand.

"She called me a Banshee. (Y/N/N), you were on the right track. I'm a Banshee. She was surprised by it. What if that's not why she tried to kill me?"

"Then why did she?" Stiles questions.

"That's what we need to find out."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles, Lydia, and I walk through the school hallways. Lydia keeps glancing at her phone, "Aiden's not texting me back."

The sound of my phone beeping stops her from saying anything else, "What? Oh God, what is it now?" She asks me as I look at the text.

"It's Isaac. Jennifer took Allison's father. That means she has all three of them now." I reply. I stare down at my phone and quickly reply only to shove it in my pocket a second later.

Lydia's voice breaks me out of my thoughts, "Stiles? Are you okay?"

I quickly turn to face him, seeing that his breathing is becoming irregular. "No." He mutters out.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"He's having a panic attack." I answer, already knowing the symptoms.

I gently take him by his arm as I bring him into the locker room. "Just think about something else. Anything else." Lydia says as she follows us into the room.

"Like?" Stiles asks.

I lower him to a sitting position as Lydia continues, "Happy things. Good things. Friends, family- I mean- not family."

"I love you Lyds, but please shut the fuck up." I say as gently as possible.

"I can't- I can't." Stiles says, breath becoming more rapid. His hands are placed firmly on his knees. Without much thought I gently grab his face, forcing him to look at me.

"Stiles. Look at me. Focus on my voice. Match my breathing." He gasps for breath, still not being able to stop the panic attack. Finally, I close the distance between our faces and kiss him.

After a brief moment, he gently begins to kiss back. Our lips slowly part, Stiles' body relaxes as he opens his eyes to look at me. "How did you do that?" He quietly asks.

"Holding your breath helps you regain control of your breathing. When I kissed you, you held your breath."

"I did?"

"You did."

"How did you know that holding your breath helps?"

"I started having panic attacks after my dad left. Plus I used the same trick on Isaac not too long ago." I shrug.

"Thanks, that was really smart."

"It was nothing." I shrug once more.

Lydia speaks up, "Well if I was really smart I'd tell you to sign up for a few sessions with the Guidance Counselor. Both of you."

"Morrell." Stiles says.

"She knows more than you'd expect."

I scoff, "Yeah, you can say that again." Stiles and I share a knowing look. I help him stand back up so that we can go talk with Morrell.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Once we made it to Morrell's office we saw a girl waiting, "You here for Ms. Morrell?" Stiles asks.

"No, I thought this was gym class." I would have laughed at her sarcastic reply if we weren't in such a rush to find the woman in question.

"Sweetheart, we're not in the mood for funny. Do you know where she is?" Lydia questions.

"If I did I wouldn't have been waiting here for twenty minutes. So how about you three back out the door and wait your turn."

"We're not here for a session."

"Well I am. And I've got some serious issues to work on."

"You're Danielle. You're Heather's best friend." Stiles says, realizing who the girl is.

"I was Heather's best friend. We've been working on that issue three times a week."

"Hold on. Did you say Morrell's twenty minutes late?" Lydia asks, bringing the attention back to her.

Danielle nods, "And I don't know why either. She's always on time."

Lydia turns her attention to Stiles and I, "I was seeing her at the beginning of the semester. She was never late. Not even a minute."

"Three guesses on where she is." I say looking at Stiles.

"I want to know what she knows." Stiles replies. He starts rifling through papers on her desk then moves to the filing cabinet when he doesn't find anything. I turn to help as the other two look on in shock.

"What are you two doing?" Danielle asks.

"Trying to find her."

"Those files are private."

"She's kinda right." Lydia pipes in.

"Here's yours." Stiles says, pulling out Lydia's file.

"Let me see that." Lydia grabs the file from Stiles hand. She opens it, looking inside. The rest of us looked over her shoulder to see.

"Wait. That's your drawing."

"Yeah, I know. It's a tree."

"You're good." Danielle says, impressed.

Lydia brightly smiles, "Thank you."

"That's the same one." Stiles says.

I gently pull the drawing out of the file to get a better look as Lydia asks him, "The same as what?"

"The same one I've seen you drawing in class."

"It's a tree. I like drawing trees."

"No, he means it's the same one. Like the exact same." I reply, finally tearing my eyes away from the drawing.

"Let me see your bag." Stiles says. He opens her bag to pull out her notebook. When he opens it we see the same drawing found on page after page. The only difference is the size of each drawing.

"Okay, you can have my session. You've got bigger issues." Danielle replies, she stands up and walks out of the room, though the rest of us don't pay much attention.

"What is this?" Lydia asks, clearly frightened.

Stiles and I are both quiet as we study the drawings, "Wait. What if it's not supposed to be looked at this way?" I speak up. I take one of the drawings and turn it upside down.

"I know where they are." Stiles says.

"The root cellar." I add, voiced laced with disbelief.

After putting Lydia's file back where we found it we rushed out of Morrell's office. "It's the Nemeton. That's where she's keeping them. It has to be."

"(Y/N), Stilinski!" A voice calls from down the hall.

"I'm not dealing with this right now." I say as soon as my eyes meet my fathers.

"I will, don't worry." Stiles reassures.

"We'll go to Derek's. Him and Peter will know where it is." Stiles nods at my words. I grab Lydia's hand as I tug her away.

"Was that your dad?" Lydia asks.

"Yes, I don't want to interact with him anymore than I need to."

*_*_*_*_*_*

I reach to open the loft door without knocking but stop when it slides open to reveal Peter. "You." Lydia says in shock.

"Me." Peter replies.

Lydia's anger rises, "You."

Peter winces at her tone, "Me." He says once more, almost sounding apologetic. "Derek. We have visitors."

Peter steps back to let us in. We walk past him to see Derek beside Cora. "How is she?" I ask, laying a gentle hand on the Alpha's shoulder.

"Not getting any better." He replies. He then turns around to properly face Lydia and I. "What do you girls need?"

We quickly explain the situation to both Peter and Derek and wait for them to reply. Though when they answer, it isn't what we wanted to hear. "You don't know where it is?" Lydia asks, confused.

"We did. After a few memorable experiences, though..." He shares a look with Derek. "Talia- Derek's mother and my older sister- decided she didn't want us ever going back. She knew how dangerous it was. So she took the memory of its location from us."

"So how do we find out where it is?" I ask, my frustration rising.

*_*_*_*_*_*

After leaving Derek's loft we met up with Stiles, Isaac, and Allison at the Animal Clinic. All of us, plus the vet, stood around an exam table, "It has to be on a Telluric Current. Maybe even at the axis of two. Or where all intersect. I know it's where Derek took Paige to die." Stiles speaks, glancing at me as he says the last part.

"My dad and Gerard were there once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was. And my dad obviously isn't going to be able to tell us now." Allison says.

"Mine either."

"She took everyone who would remember." Lydia pipes in.

"Then how do we find this place?" Isaac questions.

"That's the same question I asked Peter and Derek. They didn't have an answer." I reply.

We turn to Deaton, "Doc?" Stiles asks.

Deaton sighs, "There might be a way. But it's dangerous. And most importantly, for it to work... We're going to need Scott."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles, Deaton, and I stood in front of Stiles jeep. The headlights of the car lighting up the darkness around us. Scott steps out from the shadows, slowly making his way over to us. "How did you find out?" Scott asks.

"Lydia. You?" Stiles answers.

"Morrell. But none of the Alphas know where it is either."

"If this works, are you going to tell them?"

"I can't stop Jennifer without them."

"How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?" Deaton pipes in.

Scott nods, "What's the plan?"

"Essentially, you, Allison and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents."

"So we die for them?"

"But he can bring us back." Stiles says. He then turns to Deaton, "You can definitely bring us back, right?"

"Hopefully, yes."

"Hopefully?" I ask, bringing the attention to me.

"You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?" Deaton then turns to Scott, "If it goes right, the three of you will only be dead for a few seconds. But there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing in more ways than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton. A place that hasn't had power for a long time. When it did, Beacon Hills was quite different. This kind of power is like a magnet."

"A magnet for the supernatural?" I ask.

Deaton nods so Stiles speaks, "Doesn't sound any worse than what we've already seen."

"You'd be surprised what you have yet to see." Deaton ominously says.

"Is that it?" Scott asks, hoping that that's all there is to worry about.

"No. It'll also have an affect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of darkness over your heart. And permanent. Like a scar."

"Like a tattoo." Scott whispers.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Reconvening at the Animal Clinic, Scott, Stiles and Allison step towards the tubs filled with ice. "All right. What did you bring?" Deaton asks the three teenagers.

Stiles holds up his dad's badge, "Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand. I hammered it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't have to look good if it has meaning." Deaton's eyes then move to Allison.

She holds up a silver bullet, "Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac asks, looking at it cautiously.

"My dad made it. It's sort of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, you forge your own silver bullet as a testament to the code." Allison replies.

"Scott?" Deaton asks, looking at my twin.

He holds up mom's watch, "My dad gave this to my mom when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked."

Stiles looks it over, "It says water-resistant. Not waterproof."

"I don't think she's going to mind if it saves her life."

"Okay, the three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you're essentially... well, dead. But it's not just someone to hold you under. It's someone who can pull you back. Someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether."

Lydia immediately starts moving towards Allison while I move towards Scott. "(Y/N), you go with Stiles."

"Scott's my twin though. I'm pretty sure we have the biggest emotional connection." I say, giving the vet a questioning look.

"You'll be able to bring Stiles back and Isaac will be able to bring Scott."

I look in between Scott and Stiles, unsure what to do. Scott gives me an encouraging nod, "It's okay."

We all take our places and the trio steps into the tubs. They shiver as they sit down and Stiles turns towards Scott, "By the way, if I don't come back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad's in town."

Scott quickly glances at me seeing an unreadable expression on my face. I give him a brief nod then he turns back around to focus on the task at hand. In an instant Isaac, Lydia, and I all push our respective people under the water, waiting until they lay still.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe @judayyyw

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf rewrite #series rewrite #sister mccall imagine #lydia martin imagine

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themusicplayedherlife · 5 years

Text

Full House

2. “Why am I here, anyways?” & 3. “And who are you again?”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

characters: reader, jemma s., daisy , elena r., mysterious stranger?!

word count: 1.8k

summary: i’ve combined ch 2 &3 because why not? thank you guys for the interest in the first chapter ;w; i wasnt really expecting much, but just knowing some of you like it was really heart warming ;w;

previous || all || next

The liquid sloshes back and forth as you twirl the glass in your hand before throwing it back. You ignore the burning in your throat and slam the glass back down for another refill.

“Wow. Been a while since you’ve pounded back a straight shot of vodka,” Daisy whispers bewilderedly, bottle of squirt in one hand and another glass of the clear liquor in the other.

She’s not the only one staring at you like that; Jemma is too. She blinks owlishly as she says, “Their divorce must be really bothering you.”

Elena pushes back Daisy’s arm holding the soda, stopping it from over filling her cup. “No shit,” she mumbles earning a swift slap to the arm from Jemma.

“It’s not the divorce that’s bothering me, it’s the fact they got one without any one of us noticing!” You assert, more forcefully than intended and swipe the bottle of vodka from Daisy’s hand to fill your cup. “Someone from the courthouse would have told us!”

Jemma winces as you once more throw back another—or maybe three—shots of vodka. She gently coaxes the bottle out of your hand and you let her take it from you. “Right, maybe let’s take these slow? You and vodka don’t exactly mix well.”

You slump in your seat. “Two years. Two fucking years and they tell us now?”

“Did they tell you why they hid it for so long?” Jemma asks soothingly, trying to ease your frayed emotions.

“No,” you say with an exhale. “They didn’t get the chance to because we had to rush to the emergency room.”

“What? Why? Are your parents okay? Why didn’t you call us?” Jemma asks.

“They’re fine,” you say. “It was Michael who got hurt. He was playing with the girls and saw that Cassie was about to fall into the pond and broke her fall. Got a mean fracture in his foot.”

Daisy takes a sip of her drink. “Yikes!” You nod, rubbing your left arm. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Going to be in a cast for a while, though.”

Jemma grimaces. “Tough. So your parents weren’t in the mood to explain after that or...?”

You sigh, eyes roaming away from your friends. “No, my parents stayed home while the rest of us went with Clint and his family to the hospital.” And that was yesterday

Elena perks up at that, pausing mid drink to narrow her eyes. “You just left your parents alone at the house after that bomb?”

You wince at the accusatory tone in her voice; that’s exactly what you did.

It was a complete mess.

Everyone was running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. Michael and Cassie were crying and apologizing to each other all the while Lulu was cackling. It took Natasha delegating for everyone to finally get their heads on straight and get everyone out the door. Well, almost everyone.

“We’re coming with you!” Your dad had said, moving quickly to grab his keys off of the rack on the wall.

“No!” You startled at the force behind Clint’s voice. Your eyes wide as you stared at your older brother’s stern expression. It had taken you completely off guard. He was usually so calm and collected, never letting things get to him.

“But—“ Your mom started, hoping to convince him.

“No,” he repeated, voice softer, but strained. “You can’t just-“ he lets out a frustrated sigh-“ we need time to process what you just told us and we can’t do that when you’re hovering over us. Right now, the most important thing is focusing on Michael.”

“Clint—“

He turned away from them and all you could do was follow after him, ignoring your parents with a heavy heart.

“We’ll see you at the hospital,” Pietro told them after they settled in the car with Natasha as the driver, Clint in shotgun, and the kids in the back with Scott. The three of you waited until the black SUV pulled out of the driveway before heading towards Pietro’s beat up corolla.

“Kids…” Your mom‘s worried voice caused you to pause, unsure whether to answer or not. Were you guys being unfair to your parents? Maybe. But Clint was right. All of you needed time to process the situation, and them being around you would not help at all.

You shared a glance with the twins and with a reluctant sigh, Wanda turned to them with a neutral smile and said, “I’ll… I’ll call you later to update you guys.”

Still, needing time to process doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt turning your back on your parents.

You steal Elena’s drink before she can take a sip and down it, the bubbly drink mixed with vodka making it hard to swallow. “It’s all types of fucked up, isn’t it?”

You feel heavy, body leaning right and then left, never being able to stay straight. Your head is in the clouds and all you can picture is home where your family is waiting for you. “Home,” you whisper. But you’re not home, you’re in a cold place, where the seating is uncomfortable and you’ve hit your head on something sturdy a couple of times.

“Are you okay?” Worry laced into a deep voice asks. He sounds nice, warm even. Is it dad? Or maybe one of your brothers? He repeats his question, a little louder and even more worried.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” you whine. “I don’t know.”

He asks you something else, but you can’t really hear him. There’s a buzzing in your ear that overtakes you and you can’t help but let it sway you. It’s a sweet lullaby.

“Why am I here, anyway?” you ask the air. When you should be home in your bed and warm.

The last thing you feel are warm arms wrapping around you.

Groaning, you turn under the heavy restraint of a blanket. Your head is pounding; your eyes heavy as you try your best to open them against the warm rays filtering into your room. You give up. Pulling the blanket over your head, you’re suddenly engulfed by a woodsy smell—pine? Sandalwood? Ugh. No. Not thinking about it. Head hurts.

A gentle knock at the door makes you groan again. It opens with a soft creak and heavy footfalls against carpet register in your brain.

“Pietro,” you croak. “I swear to god, if you try and pick me up, I will not hesitate to hit you in the groin.”

A chuckle that definitely doesn’t sound like your brother’s responds to your mild threat and it’s enough to have you throwing the blanket off of you and sitting up quickly. Which you immediately regret. Greatly.

Rubbing at your temple, a cup of water and a hand holding out aspirin appear in your line of vision. “Here, these might help.”

With a low thank you, you take them from the stranger and throw back the small pill and chug down all of the water. It’s a nice welcome to your parched throat. “You didn’t poison me did you?”

He laughs. “Shouldn’t you have asked that before taking it?”

You shrug. “I was desperate.” Finally looking up, your tired eyes are blessed by a beautiful man; and you’re not exaggerating. He’s gorgeous! Sandy blonde hair, baby blue eyes, chiseled face covered in scruff; delicious muscular build wrapped in a red Henley and black joggers. You gasp, eyes widening. Have you died and gone to heaven? How else would you have managed to land in his bed?

His smile wavers, eyes narrowing with worry. “You okay?”

You blink once, then twice as he waits patiently for you to speak up. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m fine. But uh, who are you again? And how did I get-” you look around the simple room with wooden furniture and little knickknacks here and there-“here?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. I found you half passed out on the stairs.”

“Stairs?” Oh, shit. You were at Daisy’s weren’t you? And you got hammered! Fuck! Wanda and Pietro must be worried sick! “My phone!”

You slap the bedding, searching frantically for your phone.

“It’s on the bedside table,” he suddenly says. At his words, you practically flung yourself to grab it, finding it connected to a charger. “I wanted to call a friend or order you an Uber or something but I realized it was dead.”

Relief fills you when you disconnect it from the charger and it turns on with a simple click. “Thank you.” Slowly, but surely, your phone begins to vibrate with incoming messages and voicemails.

Steve whistles in amazement as your phone goes off with notifications. “Wow. Your friends must be worried about you.”

Your face blanches as you read through the messages.

Wanda:

Hey, I know you’re at Daisy’s, but let me know if you’re going to stay over or if you need a ride.

Pietro:

wanda and i r worried lil sis! call us soon

Daisy:

Home yet?

Ugh drunk

Call me towmr

Can’t spell bye

Clint:

You okay? Wanda just texted to ask if you’re over at my place, and obviously you’re not. Getting a little worried here.

The Nest

Wanda:

Still not answering her phone!

Clint:

Have you tried calling Daisy?

Scott:

U think she’s lashing out? Finally hitting her rebellious stage?

Pietro:

she’s not you, scott

Wanda:

Yes! She said they all saw her schedule an Uber

Scott:

Ouch!

Wanda:

Everything after that is apparently a blur

That’s not funny, Scott!!!!!!!!!!!!

Should we call the police?

File a report?

Pietro just said we can’t because it hasn’t been more than 24 hours

Clint:

I’ll go look for her

Wanda:

Pietro and I’ll go with you

Scott:

Luis isn’t home, can’t leave Cassie, keep me updated

“Fuck,” you exclaim, jumping out of bed. “Shoes, shoes, shoes!”

“They’re by the entrance—“

You don’t let him finish, you’re already zooming past him and out into the small corridor connected to his kitchen and living room. You almost topple over his neat furniture, but somehow manage to keep yourself upright.

Just as Steve said, your flats are by the entrance, next to a full shoe rack. Slipping on your shoes, you order an Uber through the app—fuck! Your history says you did schedule an Uber last night! But if your phone died and you stayed inside, then… fuck me! You really need to stop drinking vodka.

“Be careful,” you hear Steve say as you open the door. “No more sleeping in staircases!

“No promises,” you answer back, turning around to find him leaning against his kitchen counter with an amused smile. “Thank you for not being a creep!”

The Nest

You:

Guys! I am so sorry! I’m on my way home now! But I promise I’m okay!

Clint:

You are in so much trouble!

Pietro:

look at that, baby sis is alive after all

Wanda:

You almost gave me a heart attack!

You:

I am so sorry!

Scott:

Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you?! Proud of you little troublemaker you!

Wanda disliked “Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you...”

Pietro disliked “Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you...”

Clint disliked “Did you finally rebel? You did, didn’t you...”

Scott:

It was a joke!!!!!!!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could update the insomnia tag? Thanks for everything you do, I’m truly grateful!

We sure can. Here’s the tag. - Anastasia

Breaking Point by Duvrangrgata

(1/1 I 900 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Sometimes he had the feeling of coming back whole only under Derek’s fingers and lips. When he touched him, every breaking point weld and, even If Stiles knew they never totally disappeared, he wasn’t afraid of them anymore. He didn’t know how it was possible and he didn’t really care. Everything that could ease that feeling of always being about to break was welcomed, and if it meant that Derek had to use certain parts of his body on him to do so, he certainly wouldn’t be the one complaining about it.

Love is a battlefield, they say by NCSiastas

(1/1 I 1,629 I Not Rated I Braeden/Malia)

All Braeden wanted to do was her job. How did things go so bad?

Night Terrors by orphan_account

(3/? I 1,753 I Teen I Stydia)

Beacon Hills. It’s where is mother died and he hoped he would never have to return. But after a strange accident, Stiles ends up living as the foster child. Trying to figure out his new “family” will be hard enough, but now he’s having terrible nightmares and he can’t seem to get a certain girl out of his head.

the hope that you provide by VanillaPudding

(1/1 I 1,845 I Mature I No Pairing)

Zipporah isn’t exactly “ok” with Stiles dating LydiaShe kind of has a breakdown that Liam helps her throughSurprise surprise they bond and things take an unexpected turn

Old friends know best by bitterf_tta

(1/1 I 2,434 I Teen I No Pairing)

It wasn’t so much that Stiles lied to the rest of the pack. He never told them, per say, that everything came easy to him. The problem was that he seemed to be giving away the impression that everything was. Easy, that is.

At some point the rest of the pack had stopped viewing him as the weak human, and started viewing him as the unofficial problem solver. Whether they needed help with school, or help figuring out the latest big bad, or just somewhere to sleep when parents became overwhelming and overbearing, Stiles was all of that. He might bruise more easily, but he was fiercer than most and loyal to a fault.

or, Stiles can’t sleep and has a panic attack after a fun interaction with trolls. Seriously, trolls.

Daddy, I’m Bad News (bad news bad news bad news) by Spitshine

(!/1 I 3,335 I Explicit I Steter)

Peter is naked already when Stiles turns the corner, and her mouth goes dry. She swallows once, twice, and her throat clicks. She’s really never going to get used it—Peter’s thick thighs and arms, the curve of her belly and the sparse hair climbing up it, the slope of her shoulders leading up to the shaven back of her head, her heavy tits drooping a little under their own weight.

How to Build Humans from Sorrow by DeathsLights

(1/1 I 3,908 I Teen I Sterek)

They don’t talk about how sometimes Stiles wakes up with a scream in his throat, or how Derek places a hand over his heart and rubs, smooths the scream away. They don’t talk about how Derek likes to put his nose between the curve of Stiles’s neck, his hand under Stiles’ shirt as his thumb sweeps against the soft belly.

Dough-ohs by totallyrandom

(4/4 I 4,788 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles is sitting at the table with a bowl, an open box of Kashi Go Lean, and a fork—no milk—when the Sheriff walks in. …Stiles frowns at him and pulls the phone out of his penguin pjs pocket. He types: need to sleep with u to keep dad safe come and get me

The phone rings. “Stiles. What the hell!”

“I’m tired but dad’s here.”

“And?”

“Come pick me up.”

“Why?”

“Put me to sleep.”

The Sheriff rolls his eyes and grabs the phone. “Who is this?”

Insomniacs Unite by Late_to_the_fandom

(10/10 I 6,657 I Not Rated I Sterek)

He was glaring at the clock again, just in time to see it change to an extra minute too.2:23 AMFucking insomnia.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Might as well get some productive shit done since sleep was as elusive as ever.He grabbed the blanket and made his way to the small office, twisting the fabric until he resembled a burrito with arms. The light from the small desk lamp had him squinting and he blinked to clear the brightness, grabbing blindly for the mouse to wake up the computer.The machine came to life a few seconds later, opening to his Facebook page. He refreshed the page knowing full well there wouldn’t be anything new, the motions more reflex than actual interest, then closed the app after confirming he was the only one awake at this ungodly hour and opened his blog.

A Reason to Fight by Gia279

(22/42 I 22,342 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Derek Hale was the worst housekeeper in the history of housekeepers. He barged in without knocking, he cleaned half of the bathroom, and he only handed over fresh towels under duress. So what the hell was he doing working at the Mystic Inn, ruining Stiles’s day every chance he got?

The Mystic Inn, in Charming, Colorado, was a summer destination. The inn stayed open all year, but it was no secret they did most of their business in the summer, with their picturesque lake mansion. Charming was small, most of their guests were locals, or summer tourists who’d gotten lost and fell in love with the place. They didn’t get semi-famous, mysteriously undercover photographers showing up on their doorstep, soaked to the bone and exhausted, at midnight. Laura Hale was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. Their guest was running or hiding, and she intended to find out from what, and why.

Keep On Keeping On by Suphomie

(5/? I 35,859 I Not Rated I Steo)

Whenever Stiles pictured his future, living in New York wasn’t part of the plan. In fact, he had a very specific plan, he used to plan everything out to the exact detail, had an exact timeframe for every little thing.

One thing Stiles has learned since his days of planning was that nothing will ever work out the way you want.

(When found alive after months of captivity, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills for years. When he gets a call from an old friend, he’s forced to return. There’s a lot of reasons not to come back, but the main one is who he left behind. Theo.)

Time, Pressure and Time (Are All It Takes to Blow the Mine) by LittleRedRoamingWolf (ADayDreamingDream)

(16/16 I 35,890 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles leaves after the Nogitsune wakes latent Shadow Kitsune abilities that have been trapped inside Stiles and is now fighting with his Spark for control. With his life and those around him in danger because of the internal conflict Stiles feels that it is no longer safe to stay in Beacon Hills.

The void you left me with. by Rezzekmood

(16/? I 45,067 I Mature I Stetopher)

Stiles gave everything for Scott’s pack for two years, then they all leave him behind.

He protects Beacon Hills for sixteen years before he is forced to accept no one will be able to live through the hell mouth that is Beacon Hills, when Peter dies it’s the last straw and as he lies upon the stump of the Nemeton tree he ends his life.

But fate didn’t seem to get the memo … he’s alive and sixteen years back in time, to before Scott was bit and where Peter and his dad are alive.

Maybe things aren’t too bad.

Don’t Give Me Up by Apinchofsanity

(37/37 I 66,378 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is drifting, unmoored and sinking all at the same time. His emotions are haywire and his life feels like it’s falling apart ever since the sacrifice to save his father. Plagued by nightmares and feeling more alone than ever, Stiles drowns his sorrows by partying and drinking. A road which leads him straight into Nicholas’s arms. Will Stiles survive Nicholas?

#teen wolf #sterek #stydia #stiles stilinski #derek hale #lydia martin #Insomnia

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 7 years

Text

Teen Wolf Stranger Things AU.

Stiles is walking home from Scott’s house when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The streetlights overhead begin to flicker before the bulbs go out, immersing the street in darkness. Stiles turns around but he was too late.

He feels his legs being wrenched from beneath him, a cry tearing at his throat as he falls to the ground. He claws at the earth, his fingers raking across concrete and dirt as the creature drags him into the forest. He thrashes about and kicks himself free of the beast’s hold. He scrambles to his feet, stumbling as he ran as fast as he could away from the creature.

He feels the creature’s claws tear through his bag, pulling it from his back and tossing it aside before chasing after Stiles.

Stiles trips and falls down an incline, hitting the ground with a painful thud. He finds himself immersed in a world of darkness and decay, but he didn’t have the chance to dwell on his thoughts; the creature is closing in. He scrambles to his feet and runs.

The next morning, Claudia wakes up to find her son missing; his bed not slept in, his school books still sitting on his desk and his lacrosse gear by the door. She begins to panic and runs to the Sheriff’s office to tell them that Stiles is missing, but no one believes her because of her dementia. Sheriff Stilinski tries to calm his wife down and takes her home, promising that he’ll look for Stiles and telling her that there’s probably nothing to worry about; Stiles might have just slept over at Scott’s for the night.

Sheriff Stilinski goes to the school to look for his son, but he’s not there. He pulls Scott aside and asks him if he’s seen Stiles but Scott says he hasn’t seen him since he left to go home last night. Sheriff Stilinski begins to worry. He calls out a search party and rumours quickly spread that Stiles ran away from home. That is, until the search party stumbles upon something in the woods: Stiles’ backpack, torn and discarded.

Meanwhile, Claudia notices the lights around the house flickering as she moves between rooms. She has a haunting feeling that there’s something behind it. She clambers into the cupboard under the stairs, where Stiles used to hide when he was younger and scared, and pulls out a box full of Christmas decorations. She picks up a tangled mess of Christmas lights and holds them before her.

“Stiles,” she whispers weakly. “I don’t know what’s going on and it’s starting to scare me. The lines between reality and my waking nightmares are beginning to fade, so I’m hoping that I’m onto something here and not just losing my mind. So, if you can hear me, can you give me some sort of sign?”

For a moment, nothing happens. Claudia bows her head, her heart sinking as defeat and sorrow begins to settle in her chest. Then, suddenly, the cluster of lights burst to life.

Claudia lets out a sigh of relief but quickly composes herself. “Okay. Blink once for yes and twice for no, alright? Are you okay? Are you… alive?”

The lights blink. Once.

Her nerves begin to settle. “Do you know where you are?”

The lights blink twice.

“Hang on, I have an idea.” Claudia grabs the box of lights and pulls them into the living room, stringing them up over the walls and the roof. Colourful bulbs stream into the hallway and throughout the house. He grabs a marker and scrawls letters across the wall. Finished, she steps back and says, “Okay, Stiles, sweetie, talk to me. Tell me how I can help you. Tell me what I should do.”

The lights above the letters light up one by one. R. U. N.

Claudia’s heart skips a beat. All the lights in the room light up, strobing and buzzing with electricity.

She spins around, her eyes focused on the far wall. She’s frozen in place, watching as the plaster and wallpaper began to bubble and melt away, revealing a opaque grey barrier. Claudia creeps over to the wall, reaching out as her hand touches the flesh-like barrier.

Beyond it, she sees a figure running towards her. Stiles.

He frantically glanced over his shoulder before looking at his mum. His lips move around a word that she cannot hear, but she knows what it is.

“Run.”

Stiles takes off running, disappearing into the darkness as another figure draws near. This thing isn’t human. It throws itself at the wall, jagged claws and piercing teeth tearing through the fleshy barrier.

Claudia screams and runs out onto the street. She falls into a pair of arms, thrashing about as she tries to break free. Sheriff Stilinski holds her close, talking to her softly as he tries to calm her down enough to ask what’s wrong.

“It’s coming through the wall,” she mutters between broken sobs. “It’s coming through the wall.”

Sheriff Stilinski can’t help but feel anxious about this. He carefully ushers Claudia towards his deputy and tells him to look after her. He makes his way towards the house, pushing open then front door and stepping inside. It’s pitch black, the only light being that that seeps in through the front door. He makes his way down the hallway, his chest tight and his heart pounding against his ribs. He draws his gun and cocks it, holding his breath as he steps into the living room.

Nothing.

The walls are undamaged and the only thing that’s out of place is the mess of Christmas lights strung up around the house.

Sheriff Stilinski sighs and glances out into the front yard where his distressed wife is crying. Amidst her broken babbling and tears, he hears her say a name: “Stiles.”

Scott is beginning to worry about his friend, wanting nothing more than to be out there helping the sheriff’s department find Stiles. But Sheriff Stilinski had said that he should stay in school, just in case Stiles turned up. But that doesn’t put him at ease.

Everyone at school is staring at him and spreading rumours that Stiles has run away or, worse, that he’s dead. Scott tells them they’re wrong, but the only person who believes him is Allison.

The next day, they’re sitting together at lunch and Scott notices that the lights are flickering all over town.

“Maybe it has something to do with the electrical currents that flow through Beacon Hills,” Allison suggests.

“What?”

“Danny, Lydia and I were studying together and Danny’s writing an essay on the geographical electric currents that flow through Beacon Hills,” Allison explains.

“The lights were doing this around the time that Stiles disappeared,” Scott says. “Maybe it has something to do with it. We should ask Danny what he knows.”

Scott turns to leave when Allison catches his hand. “There’s one problem,” she says softly. “Danny’s in hospital.”

“What?”

“He was stabbed last night,” Allison tells him. “I mean, we can visit, but he might not be conscious.”

Scott lets out a dejected sigh. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

They go to visit Danny in hospital. He’s not conscious but Allison points out the backpack sitting by his bed. Scott crosses the room and begins to rifle through the textbooks, notebooks, and loose pieces of paper until he finds the essay.

“What are you doing?” Danny rasps, startling Scott.

He glances over his shoulder at Allison, both of them panicking.

“I’m not doing anything, Danny,” Scott replies “This is just a dream that you’re having.”

“Why are you going through my stuff?” he asks weakly.

“Right, but only in the dream,” Scott insists.

“Why would I dream about you going through my stuff?”

“I don’t know, Danny,” Scott replies. “It’s your dream. Take responsibility for it.”

Danny falls quiet again, asleep. That’s when Allison notices the gashes torn out of Derek’s stomach and arms.

“Scott, these aren’t stab wounds,” she whispers. “They’re too wide and irregular to have been made by a knife. The tearing looks more like a mauling, like he was slashed open by a bear or a wolf.”

“There hasn’t been wolves in Beacon Hills for sixty years,” Scott recited, remembering the strange fact Stiles had told him.

Their anxious suspicions begin to grow. They leave the hospital and drive back towards Scott’s house. Allison reads the essay to him as they drive and when they get to Scott’s house he prints off a map and marks out the electrical currents.

“There are points at which they converge,” Scott says. “On Church Street, heading towards the woods… That’s on the way to Stiles’ house.”

“They merge at the school too,” Allison pointed out. “That’s where Danny was last night when he was attacked.”

“So where else to they merge?” Scott asked, his eyes rolling over the picture.

“Here,” Allison points at the map.

Scott freezes. It’s Stiles’ house.

Scott and Allison rush to the Stilinski house, piecing things together. They arrive, ready for action: Scott wielding his mother’s baseball bat. They frantically try to explain everything they know to the Sheriff (Claudia’s not there, she was admitted to hospital after the earlier incident) and he begins to believe them.

Sheriff Stilinski gets a rifle, passing it to Allison as he readies himself to fight.

They know what they have to do: they need to guard the rift or else the creature could get loose, or worse; it could catch Stiles as he tries to get out.

The rift opens and the creature breaks out. They fight back but guns don’t seem to work. The creature gets the upper hand, knocking Scott aside and pinning him to the ground.

Something else comes though the rift, grabbing Melissa’s bat as they charge forward. They swing and slam the creature over its head, stunning it.

Scott stares up at his saviour, breathing out a sigh of relief as he looks at his friend. “Stiles.”

Stiles grabs Scott’s arm and drags him to his feet, hurrying past the others and into the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of his father’s whiskey and a dish towel. He unscrews the lid and shoves the rag into the bottle until it’s partially soaked in alcohol; a make-shift Molotov cocktail. He grabs a lighter from the top draw and lights the other end of the cloth.

Stiles hurries into the other room and hurls the Molotov at the creature. The glass shatters and the liquor ignites. The creature is consumed by the roaring flames, scratching as its flesh boils away to nothing.

A strange quiet settles and it takes them a moment to realise that it’s over.

The next few days, they try to return to normality, try to pretend that Stiles never left or that they never saw the things they saw, but there’s one question that lingers in the back of their mind: Is the Stiles that came out of the rift the same Stiles that went in, or is he something different?

#TADA!#this is the post i have spent 4 hours writing and editing #there's bound to be typos #just ignore them #teen wolf au #teen wolf stranger things au #i know i know #there's no Eleven in this #I couldn't find a way to fit her into this version #maybe in the other version that i still need to write #it's a sterek version #this one i just wanted to see if i could write a story without a love plot or a main couple #i mean scallison is a thing but that's more to the side #note to self: write this for next year's halloween fic #and yes #some of those gifs are from season 2 #but i couldn't resist nancy being a badass and steve's little bat twirl #now for the boring tags...#stiles stilinski #scott mccall #sheriff stilinski #claudia stilinski #claudia stilinski was not a bad mother #they're teenagers #claudia's still alive in this au #alive claudia #alive!claudia #claudia stilinski is alive #she has dementia #and she will eventually pass

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farklelucas · 7 years

Note

idk if this is a good prompt but itd be awrsome if you could write a briam roommates au

ur…. an Icon. thank u my anonymous friend. read this on ao3!!

send me prompts pls, any kind of prompts

“Nervous pacing isn’t going to help you, Liam.”

Liam spins to face Mason, who’s sitting on the bed, and glares. “You don’t get to talk, traitor,” he says. He’s half-kidding. Only half.

Predictably, Mason rolls his eyes. “Me moving in with my boyfriend is not betraying you. It’s me, moving in with my boyfriend to move further in a relationship. We have been over this, right? I wasn’t dreaming or something?”

They have been over it. A lot. But Liam is whiny. He flops down on the bed and sticks his head onto Mason’s lap. “But why do you need romance when you have friendship?” he asks innocently. Mason just stares at him. “Okay, fine. But what if my roommate is evil?”

“Your roommate will not be evil,” Mason says surely. “Corey’s foster brother knows his adopted mom.”

For a moment, Liam just blinks. Then he says, “Those were too many connections.”

Mason rolls his eyes again and shoves his head off of his thigh. Liam laughs. “Shut up. Look, I’ll tell you what. If you want, I can be here when he shows up to move in.”

Liam thinks about it. All of his life, he and Mason have been together - they grew up together, they went to school together, they went to college together. And now everything is moving in different ways. Mason is moving in with his boyfriend, they’re majoring in different things. Maybe it’s time he started growing up too.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says. Even if he’s not.

The room is dead silent. Mason has just left a few minutes ago, so Liam has just been staring at his wall and trying to do homework. He’s trying and failing. His English grade is slowly slipping by him, and he’s watching and letting it happen.

Suddenly, the locks in the door click. Liam jumps to his feet and grabs the bat sitting by the foot of his bed (making a mental note to send a thank you note to his uncle for the going away present). The door swings open and a man stands behind it.

He doesn’t look like a burglar or predator, though. He has suitcases at his feet, a key in the door, and a bored expression on his face. “Is that how you greet all your roommates, or…?” he says.

Liam, embarrassed, drops the bat back to its place and sighs. “You scared me, man,” he says. He shuffles forward and sticks out his hand. “You must be Brett. I’m Liam, nice to meet you.”

Brett wrinkles his brow but nods, shaking Liam’s hand. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he says. He looks at both beds and desks. “I’m assuming the stripped bare one is mine?” he asks. Liam just nods, so Brett drags his bags over and lays them down on top. Then he turns on his heel and says, “Nice seeing you,” and walks out the door.

Liam is immediately unsettled.

Brett is… weird.

Not weird like he keeps taxidermied animals in their room. Or like he’s in a cult. Or even like he talks in his sleep. (Although, those are the first things Mason asks when Liam tells him that Brett is weird.) He’s just odd. He keeps to himself most of the time, and when he does talk to Liam, half the time he’s snarky and rude and the other half he’s almost friendly. Corey says that Theo says that Satomi, Brett’s mom (and God, that is too many people to go through), says that Brett has no filter. He say exactly what he means and doesn’t feel the need to explain himself. So far, Liam has found this to be true.

When Liam is on the phone with Mason and complains about his grades, Brett says (unprompted), “Get a tutor.” When the pizza delivery guy comes to their room, Brett comments, “He was super hot. Like, porn level hot. Do we have pepperoni?” Liam puts on National Treasure and Brett remarks, “That is the dumbest movie on the planet.” Liam doesn’t honestly have any idea what to do with him.

It’s two weeks since Brett has moved in. He’s at a class, Liam thinks, but he can’t be sure since they don’t really talk about… much of anything. He has no idea of the guy’s schedule or even what he’s majoring in. Liam’s just returned from his own class to find the door locked, so he assumes that if Brett’s not at class, he’s out somewhere.

Meanwhile, his laptop crackles with noise. “Papi, I can see you fine,” he says. “You don’t need to adjust the camera.”

For two forty-year-olds, his fathers are inept when it comes to technology. They’re supposed to be at the head of the generation of technology, leading forward a new age of technological advancement. But no, he thinks, as he watches his father squint at the computer screen. Scott and Isaac McCall are like two old people stuck in two forty-year-old’s bodies. “Sorry, Liam,” he says with a frown. “Your Uncle Stiles set it up and I don’t know how to work the damn... darn thing.”

Isaac sits next to him, drinking out of his Number One Dad mug Liam got him and wearing a scarf even though it’s barely October. He scoffs. “First, he’s eighteen, I think you can swear around him now.” Then he turns his wide smile on Liam and Liam suddenly feels homesick. “Second, it’s so good to see you, darling. How are you? When does winter break start?”

Liam chuckles. Every time he’s on the phone with either one of them, one of their first questions is always ‘when can you come home?’ or some similar variation. He’s always been close to his dads and even being a state away, from Pennsylvania to New York, rocks the typically steady boat that is their relationship. “Early December,” he answers. “And I’m fine.”

Instantly, Scott’s dark eyebrows knit together. “You don’t sound fine,” he says. Besides being very close to him, or perhaps because of it, they are also very perceptive and nosy. Of course his dad picked up on something being off. “What’s up?”

Liam glances at the clock and then leans into the camera. “My roommate? He’s weird.”

His parents just blink at him. Then Scott says, “Like white people horror movie weird?”

“No,” Liam says. “Like, no filters and stand-offish weird.” If Brett were white people horror movie weird, Liam would have already requested for another roommate.

His parents look at each other and shrug. “Maybe you just don’t know each other well enough yet,” Isaac suggests.

Scott smiles and says, “Yeah, when I met your father, I thought he was a total brat.”

“I was,” Isaac says with a shrug.

“And I thought your Uncle Stiles was a pompous dick,” Scott continues.

Abruptly, Isaac snorts. “He is.”

Scott rolls his eyes, but, still smiling, keeps talking. “What I’m saying is, just give him a chance. He could surprise you.”

Liam shrugs, but what he doesn’t say is this: I have no delusions of Brett and I getting married or being best friends for life.

He chats with his parents for a little while more, then Scott remembers he has a shift at the veterinary clinic and they have to go. “Bye, Lilo,” Isaac coos. “We love you.”

His childhood nickname hits him like a punch to the gut, and he’s twice as homesick as before. “Love you too,” he mutters, grinning at them. The screen goes black and he shuts down his laptop with a happy sigh. His dads always manage to make him feel better, even if his roommate is… questionable.

He hears a snicker and then, “Lilo, huh?”

Whoops. He hadn’t even heard Brett enter. He slowly turns and bites his lip, his shoulders tense. Brett is sitting on his bed, eyebrows raised, his shoes and jacket already off, like he’s been there for a while. How did he not even notice? “How much did you hear?” he asks gingerly.

Brett smiles, one of the first one’s Liam’s seen from him, and shrugs. “Everything from me being ‘odd’ to ‘Lilo,’” he says, and Liam groans. How did I not hear him come in?! “Don’t worry, you won’t hear me if you don’t want me to,” Brett says, like he’s Sandu or something. What Liam wants to know if Brett really thought that was the way to say that without sounding like a serial killer. “I mean, I think it’s great you and your parents get along so well. I don’t even know mine.”

That makes Liam internal monologue of pure screaming pause. “What do you mean?” he asks, frowning. “Mason told me that his boyfriend’s foster brother knows your mom.”

Brett frowns. Then he says, “That’s a lot of words coming out of a small person at once.” A flash of anger flares through Liam at the size jab, but Brett keeps talking. “Yeah, Satomi is great and all, but she adopted me when I was, like, fifteen. She was the only person unwilling to split up me and my sister. Before that, I had no one. I’ll never know who my real parents are.”

For a moment, there’s silence. He can tell that Brett’s never really told someone that before, and he wants to reach into the air and pick it out and tear it to pieces. He looks like he regrets saying it, even though Liam’s really glad he said it, because Brett’s finally said something that Liam can tell was real. And then Liam can feel it: a fluttering in his chest, a clenching of his jaw, a tense swallow. He’s a nervous talker, got it from Uncle Stiles, and he’s never learned to keep things to himself. (He can still vividly remember when his uncle snuck him out to go camping, and Isaac and Scott were so mad at Stiles and Liam and it just made him nervous, so he just blurted, “I fell in a hole!” Stiles has never let him live that one down.) “I was adopted too,” he says. Brett looks up, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “Well, I mean, obviously,” Liam babbles. “Because I have two dads, but I went looking for my birth parents, reached out to the adoption agency and everything… They didn’t want to talk to me. Neither of them.” He shrugs, looking at the floor instead of Brett. He hasn’t even told Mason about that, and certainly not his dads. “My bio mom’s new husband emailed me, said it was really hard on her to give me up and she can’t face me. I have two half-sisters in California, Alicia and Alyssa. They’re cute kids.”

He finally puts a cork on the word vomit and looks up at Brett, whose eyes are unusually soft and mouth unusually shut. He just sadly smiles at Liam for a moment, then says, “Guess we’re both just a little bit messed up, huh?”

Liam snickers and replies, “Finally, we have something in common.”

Brett outright laughs at that, seemingly surprising the both of them. Then Brett grins, real and bright. “Wanna go get some pizza?” he asks, and Liam finds he would really like to get pizza.

As the year goes on, Liam’s beginning to find himself more and more comfortable around Brett. There is no problem as far as his personality goes - in fact, Liam thinks Brett is kind of funny. Liam laughs at Brett’s bluntness and Brett appreciates Liam’s underlying snark. It’s a great relationship.

The problem, now, is about Brett’s face, body and personality. It’s all unbearably attractive.

It’s not like Liam can’t handle it; he’s had unrequited crushes before. (Garrett, third grade; Theo, fifth grade; Josh, seventh grade.) But he’s just so handsome, to the point where it’s frustrating. When he quirks his eyebrows or smirks or even calls Liam a dumb ass, Liam wants to hit something. Even when he calls him “Lilo,” it’s cute. (And he does that a lot.)

He can tell Mason is beginning to get tired of him talking about it. “I’m getting tired of you talking about it,” Mason says one day, and that really tips him off. They’re sitting next to each other in the middle of the school quad; Corey is at work, and Brett is back home visiting Satomi and Lori, so they’re hanging out. And Liam may, or may not, have been talking about Brett’s tattoo. “Dude, you wanna bang your roommate, bang your roommate. At least then all the UST will go away.”

Liam wrinkles his nose. “What’s UST? Sounds like slang for a bladder infection.”

“That’s a U.T.I.,” Mason corrects, rolling his eyes. “UST is unresolved sexual tension. You and Brett have it by the bucketloads.”

He feels his cheeks go red. Damn his fair skin - it always gives him away. “We do not have… ‘UST,’” he says weakly. They don’t. Do they?

Mason stares for a moment. “You did not just do air quotes,” he mutters, then sighs and shakes his head. “You guys most definitely have tension. Liam, he calls you ‘Lilo.’ No one but your parents get to call you Lilo. And Brett knows that, and he loves it. And he wants to bang you.” Liam attempts to protest again, and then Mason cuts in. “I’ll tell you what. If we get through the rest of the year and you and Brett haven’t had sex at least once, I’ll give you fifty dollars. If you do have sex, you pay up.”

That sounds intriguing. Liam raises his eyebrows and asks, “You sure you don’t want to make it the next three years instead?”

“I’ll be surprised if you make it to next month,” Mason says. They shake on it.

There’s a persistent knocking on the door. It must be pretty early in the morning, since neither of them are awake for their morning classes yet. “You get it,” Liam groans. Apparently, Brett hears him from his bed, because Liam hears the squeaking of the mattress and then the door clicking open and the knocking stopping. “Oh,” says the voice. “I was hoping to talk to you and your roommate.”

Liam raises his head to see a girl looking at him, unimpressed, from the doorway. Then he looks over to Brett, who’s smirking at him, wearing boxers. Only boxers. Liam feels his dick twitch in his sweatpants, and thankfully he sleeps on his stomach. He groans and puts his head back down on the pillow. “Looks like it’s just me,” he hears Brett say flatly. “What do you want?”

She sounds sarcastic and annoyed, not at all like someone who should be banging on their door this early in the morning. “I’m Hayden Romero,” she says. “I’m head of the cotillion committee, and I’m also dating Tracy Stewart. I’m coming around taking a poll about the likelihood of you voting for her for class president.”

There’s a pause for a moment, and then Brett says, “Tracy? She’s in my gender studies class. Sure, I’d vote for her. And I could probably get Liam on board, since he doesn’t care.”

“Great,” Hayden says. There’s brief pause and then the door nearly slams shut.

Liam looks up at Brett, who’s frowning down at the paper in his hands. “Well, have a good day, I guess,” he mutters, and then looks to Liam. “We have a 25% off coupon for a couple’s ticket to the cotillion.”

He only heard half that sentence. “Put a shirt on,” he mutters, and Brett rolls his eyes but obliges.

Once the shirt is on, thank God, Liam gets out of bed and pads over, looking at the flyer. “Sucks that neither of us can use it.”

Brett snorts. “Or we can just go together.”

Liam whips his head around so fast that he thinks his neck nearly breaks. Brett’s eyes are wide, staring down at the paper, and he has the deep look of regret on his face that Liam saw a few months ago when they talked about their parents for the first time. “Um,” Liam says, because that’s all he can think to say. “What?”

“Nevermind,” Brett says quickly, and Liam thinks that it’s the first time he’s ever heard Brett try to retract something he’s said. “Let’s just get ready for class.”

He stands and walks to the door, already gone before Liam has the chance to reply.

Things begin to get weird after that. Not just because Mason is constantly making snide remarks about the two of them hooking up, but because it seems as if Brett’s holding himself back. A lot. Which is really strange, because as he’s been told time and time again, Brett has no filter - he never has and he never will. Which is why it’s weird to see Brett bite his lip, screw up his eyes, and shake his head.

Liam feels so stupid. When he dies, he wants Um, what? to be printed on his gravestone, just so that people will know that he’s a complete and total idiot who probably deserved whatever it was that he got. He has no idea what he was supposed to say to Brett potentially suggesting that they should go to the cotillion together, but he knows that almost anything else would have been better that Um, what? For instance - I’d like that. Do you mean it? It’s not that great of a coupon to be honest. Okay, maybe not the last one.

A few days before the cotillion, he sees Brett linger by the tickets stand. He wants so badly to ask if he wants to go - but what if he’s misread this whole thing? He’s heard from Corey (who heard from Theo who heard from Satomi, because yes, they still do that) that he’s had girlfriends before - but that could have been a phase? Or he’s bisexual? Liam doesn’t know what to do. So he does nothing.

When Brett finally walks away, Liam sighs and turns to find Mason staring at him. The seat next to him is empty, he assumes that Corey went to go get some Starbucks or something. Liam blinks, taking in the frown and the angry set of Mason’s eyebrows. “... What?” he asks.

“You’re an idiot,” Mason sighs, shaking his head and going back to his homework. “A total idiot.” Liam doesn’t have the heart to tell him that this is something he already knows.

The light dramatically shifts as Scott moves around the phone, trying to get both Isaac and himself in frame. “You wanna know what?” he asks, finally deciding to put it down on the kitchen table and have them look down at the phone. It’s an awkward angle, for sure, and Liam is positive that soon Isaac will have to amble off and get them both chairs to sit in, but for now it works.

Liam looks around one more time for his roommate, making sure, this time, that he’s not in the room. Then he turns back to Scott and Isaac, frowning. “I wanted to know how you guys were sure that you were into each other,” he says. “Like, I know Papi did the asking, but how did you… know?”

They both just stare at him blankly for a moment. Liam rolls his eyes. Then Isaac says, “Oh, you mean, like, gaydar?”

“Exactly,” Liam mutters. “Not the term I would use, per se, but yeah. Gaydar.”

His parents look at each other, frowning, and then they turn back. “You never really know until you ask,” Scott says, with a shrug. “It’s not like there’s some magical tell that LGBT people have.”

This is not what Liam wanted to hear. He watches as Scott takes off his glasses to clean them on his shirt and Isaac wanders off screen, presumably to get them chairs. He waits until Isaac is back in frame, both sitting, and asks, “So you just… ask? And hope you don’t get punched in the face?” Because that is a very real possibility here - getting punched in the face.

Scott laughs a little. “Well, I mean, I knew your dad wasn’t going to punch me in the face,” he says. “But yeah, I just kind of asked if he’d want to go out sometime. It was terrifying.”

“Not for me,” Isaac says casually. “I knew he was bi, and I was pretty sure he liked me, so I was just biding my time.”

Liam stares at his blurry picture on the screen, and Scott stares at him in real life. “You could have told me, you know,” Scott says.

Isaac grins. “What, and ruin the fun? Besides, how would I have worked it into a conversation - ‘hey, I’m Isaac, I like boys’?”

“Why didn’t you just ask him out?” Liam asks, because this seems like a very normal and rational question.

Isaac hums and says, “It was twenty-five years ago, so I’m a little blurry on it, but I’m pretty sure that your Uncle Stiles informed me that Scott had just recently had his heart broken by a pretty girl, so I should wait it out.”

Scott rolls his eyes and Isaac laughs. “I’m going to call Stiles,” he mutters, and turns back to the phone. “Anyway, why’d you ask, Lilo?”

Once again, Liam looks over his shoulder. No sign of Brett, which is good, the sneaky bastard. He looks back and says, “I kind of like my roommate.”

“The weird one?” they ask in unison, then look at each other. Then they look back to Liam and Scott says, “The odd one?”

“That’s the one,” Liam confirms. “We’ve been becoming friends and, I don’t know, I think he likes me back but I can’t tell for sure.”

They pause thoughtfully for a moment. “My advice is just ask,” Scott reiterates. “You’ll never know if he likes you until you ask.”

“Of course he’ll like you,” Isaac fusses. “Who couldn’t love that face?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “I have to go,” he says. “Love you, Dad. Love you, Papi.”

“Love you, Lilo,” they chime, again in unison, and the screen goes dark.

He turns around, like he’ll find Brett sitting on his bed or creeping in the shadows or lurking in the doorway. None of this is true.

It’s the night of the cotillion. Every ticket is sold out, and the coupon is ripped up and in the trash. It’s been a long year, and the end of the school year is only a few weeks away.

Liam’s lounging on his bed when the door clicks open, and Brett enters, throwing himself down on his own bed. “Today blows,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before sitting up and beginning to take off his boots.

“You okay?” Liam asks, sitting up and putting his homework on the table beside him.

Brett shrugs. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just annoyed, I guess. All everyone was talking about today was the cotillion.” He looks up at Liam, bites his lip, shakes his head, and looks away. “We’re, like, the only people not going.”

And there it goes again, that weird thing. The lip-head-eyes thing he does when he’s holding back. He wants so badly to know what Brett wants to say, and then he feels it - nervous flutter, tensed jaw, swallow. And he can’t stop the word vomit before it’s all coming out in a rush. “Brett, do you like boys?”

Brett looks up, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed deeper than the first time they met. “Uh,” he says. “What?”

Liam takes a deep breath and says it again, because he can hear Scott’s voice in his head, saying over and over: Just ask. “Do you like boys?” He asks slower this time, in case Brett didn’t hear him the first time.

He expects a ‘no’ or a ‘shut up’ or a punch in the face. He doesn’t get any of those things. Brett frowns and tilts his head, looking more curious than angry or upset. “Why?” he asks.

“Uh,” Liam says, and shakes himself. He won’t go with what? this time. Not again. “Well, I really, uh, like you. A lot. And I was just - when you said we should go to the cotillion together, did you mean it? Because I would’ve said yes. If you meant it.”

Brett just stares at him for a long moment. And then a smile, a true and big grin, breaks out over his beautiful, beautiful face, and Liam is taken aback. “I meant it,” Brett says, nodding. “Every word.”

Slowly, Liam feels his own face begin to smile. “Cool,” he says, because apparently he’s used his intelligent word quota for the day.

They both look over to the trashcan, where the bright pink piece of paper Hayden had handed to Brett lays crumpled up under some scrap paper and what Liam assumes is a wad of gum. “Shame we never bought those tickets,” Brett says.

“We would’ve had fun,” Liam admits.

Then Brett looks at him, the same furrow in his brow and smile on his lips. Liam’s just about to ask what he’s thinking when Brett says, “Do you trust me?” After a moment, Liam nods. “Great.” Brett stands abruptly and goes into his closet. He pulls out a big, clunky radio, and smiles at Liam. “Follow me,” he says. Liam doesn’t even hesitate.

They walk to the big hall in which the cotillion is being held, only a few blocks away from their dorm building, and Brett comes to a stop. Then he plugs in the radio and puts on whatever station he has on preset, slow and sensual jazz music coming from it. Then Brett turns to him and smiles. “Dance with me, Lilo?” he asks.

Liam, meanwhile, is too stunned to do much of anything. He looks from Brett to his bare socks to the radio to his own tattered pajamas. “What a romantic,” he says, instead of anything that could be misconstrued as real feelings. “Do you do this with all the boys?”

“No,” Brett admits, “but I did see it on a Saved by the Bell episode.” He shakes his hands, which are poised for Liam to dance with him. Liam rolls his eyes and laughs, but comes forward into Brett’s arms all the same.

They dance for a while, holding each other at a distance and looking into each other’s eyes, and Liam counts the colors of Brett’s eyes. But eventually the tension melts, and Liam tucks his head onto Brett’s chest and Brett holds him tighter. “Do you feel stupid to know that we could have been like this for months?” Liam mutters. “Because I do.”

“Imagine how useful this would have been in winter. Body warmth.” Liam laughs and pulls in tighter.

Eventually the clock in the quad strikes, and it’s eleven o’clock - half an hour until campus curfew. The dance would be ending in a few minutes. Liam sighs and pulls back. “We should go back,” he says. “It’s late.”

Brett nods and heads over to the radio, wrapping up the cord. When he’s done, he picks it up and moves to begin the walk home. Then he pauses and looks over his shoulder at Liam, saying, “You know what? I’m glad we didn’t go. Tonight was perfect.”

Liam smiles broadly, and, in some move of stupidity and braveness, strides forward and cups Brett’s face in his own. His lips are soft and supple, and his stubble scratches against Liam’s chin. “There,” he says. “Now it’s perfect.” Brett grins.

A few weeks later, after end of the year exams are finally over, Liam and Mason go to lunch. They’ve barely sat down and ordered before Mason begins speaking. “Well, I don’t know how you managed to avoid it,” he says. “But you did. I owe you, man. I really thought you and Brett would have caved by now. I mean, I would have - have you seen him?”

Liam sighs and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and puts two twentys and a ten down on the table.

For a minute, there’s complete and total silence. Mason, for once in his life, is speechless. Then Liam asks, “I don’t have to pay you fifty dollars for how each time we had sex, right?”

Mason looks up, sharply, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“I don’t think I have that kind of money,” Liam says. Mason nearly falls out of his chair.

#briam #brent x liam #liam dunbar #brett talbot #teen wolf #katie writes #i had way too much fun guys #anonymous #you got claws i got an ask

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b00ksandcleverness · 7 years

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Honestly just poly rangers anything if u r taking prompts. Something abt the family's of each of them? Like Zack and Billy's moms and Trini's fam and Jason's fam and Kim's fam and idk what this is, I just rly like poly rangers

POLY RANGERS IS LYFE

Ok so before I get on with writing this, here are my poly ranger sexual/romantic/platonic pairing headcanons to stave off some questions. Trini is exclusively sexual with Kim. Her relationships with the boys are platonic, but she loves cuddling with anyone, anywhere, anytime. Kim is very occasionally sexual with Jason, but is platonic with Billy and Zach. Sometimes she just likes to kiss whoever is nearby, as does Zach. Jason and Billy are also mostly exclusively sexual with each other. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, Zach joins in with Jason and Billy, but he’s not often bothered with sex. I feel like Zach is a huge cuddle monster and him and Trini can usually be found cuddling somewhere.

I’m not too ready to add Tommy in yet simply because she isn’t developed, but I love Tommy as a girl, and in my headcanons she’s definitely pan or bi and super flirty with literally everyone. She’ll punch your lights out if you even think her full name (Thomasina). She won’t be in this fic, but if people want to see more of her with the other 5, send me prompts!

Feel free to come yell about your headcanons with me! Ok, here we go...

----

The first parental unit they tell is Billy’s mom.

Well, it’s more that Billy blurts it out during one of his babble fests they all adore, and they all hold their breath wand wait.

She’s so happy that Billy is happy and accepted and understood that she doesn’t blink twice before welcoming them all to the family and asking if they like cookies and apple juice. She has an avalanche of questions later, but they know she’s just trying to learn and they all answer her questions happily

Zach’s mom figures it out by herself. She chatters at Zach for a solid 20 minutes in Chinese while the others stand and wait apprehensively for the yelling to start, for them all to be kicked out, but then Zach hugs her as tightly as he dares and they all let out a sigh of relief and laugh as she tells them about all the polyamorous couples in Chinese mythology. They promise they’ll study them for her, and these lessons become a normal weekly occurrence that just makes Zach even more proud to have her as his mom.

Jason’s father yells. A lot. He doesn’t kick them out but he tells them they’re just kids and how could they be so naiive, how could they think this is okay, how could they think about flaunting this in public, what would people think, how could they not think of their futures, and on and on and on. Their shoulders don’t slump but Billy and Kim both start to shrink as the yelling gets louder and finally, finally, and maybe surprisingly but really not, it’s Trini who speaks up first. She gets right up in his face and tells him to shut up and to stop bullying the people she loves.

It’s quiet for a long time after that, and Billy straightens and Kim just breathes and they lean in to Jason and Zack while Trini stares down Jason’s dad until he turns and leaves the room. She harrumphs and turns back to her partners and coaxes smiles from all of them while she trembles with adrenaline. Later, back at Billy’s house, she snuggles into Kim who’s sandwiched between her and Zach and allows herself to relax and remember that she has them and she has Billy’s mom and Zach’s mom and dreads what her parents are going to say next.

Jason’s dad surprises them all when the next week he invites them all over and tells them he’s been doing a lot of research. That he loves Jason and he doesn’t understand yet, but he’s going to try and to please give him a second chance. He apologizes to Trini and Kim and Billy, and shakes Zach’s hand. Jason tells them the next day that he’d gotten the first hug from his dad he’d had in 5 years. They have hope.

Trini tries to introduce them slowly to her parents. She’d told them all that her mom was overbearing and that her dad was just oblivious and that neither of them had reacted well to her coming out - obviously. First, she brings Zach. Because Zach is a boy and Zach can be polite and winning when he wants to be. Trini’s brothers love him and her parents are suspicious. Next is Kim, who adults absolutely adore. Well. Most adults, because apparently Trini’s mom really doesn’t like Trini hanging around with pretty girls. Trini’s dad gives her an encouraging smile and Trini helps Kim escape before the barrage of questions beats down on her shoulders.

Jason and Billy come as a package, and Billy is sweet and Jason is charming and he’s Jason Scott and her mom seems to give in a little when she sees that these 4 odd kids keep coming around. But one day they’re all studying in Trini’s living room and they’re supposed to be alone so they’re not watching themselves and Trini’s mom walks in on Trini cuddling with Zach and Kim while reading her book for AP Lit and Kim just happens to be stealing a kiss from Jason while her arms are still wrapped around Trini, and Billy’s head is in Jason’s lap and it’s all wrong, all to fast, and Trini thinks she actually witnesses her mom’s head explode with the shout of her name.

“Trinity Maria Alverado! What the hell is going on in my house?!”

Trini’s mom is the first to kick everyone else out. They all tell her behind her mom’s back that they’ll be close, that they’ll come if she needs them, that they love her and all she can do is watch them close the door behind them.

Her mother calls her father while still screaming at her, demands that he come home early to deal with this.

Trini’s count of how many questions her mom asks has reached two hundred and sixteen without enough breath for her to even answer one by the time her father gets home.

“Trini, your mother says you’re sleeping with 4 other people?!”

Trini closes her eyes and prepares to explain to a brick wall. She really wishes her partners were there, but she has a faint connection to all of them and she caresses them in her mind.

“No, papí, I -”

“Don’t you dare lie to him, Trinity! I saw what was going on in this room! I saw -”

“You saw Kim kissing Jason. Because Kim likes to kiss people. I like to cuddle, and so does Zach. And Kim is the only one I’m, like, you know. With. So she cuddles with me too. And Jason is with Billy, so he’s really the only one that Billy is ok with touching a lot. And we all love each other, mamí, but it’s not wrong, it’s beautiful.”

“What do you mean, Kim is the only one you’re ‘with’? Are you having sex, Trinity? You are far too young to even be considering sex, and you’re not even married. Are you still pretending to like women? You know your father and I don’t support that, Trinity, I thought we’d come to an agreement! What I saw today...”

It goes on for hours. Trini tries explaining that there’s nothing sexual between her and the boys. Just Kim, even if they don’t ‘believe’ in her being gay. She tries explaining that yes, they’re all in a relationship because no matter how scared she is she’s not going to hide them like some dirty little secret. She’s proud of them and their relationship and maybe it’s stupid of her but she’s not backing down and she’s not moving again. She tries explaining 50 different ways but no matter what she says they don’t change their questions, they don’t change their minds. They send her to her room with a final “We are so disappointed in you, mija.” and the moment her door closes she’s out the window, running. She doesn’t have a destination in mind, but apparently her partners know her better than she knows herself because when she finally finds herself on top of her rock, they’re all sitting there. Waiting. With open arms and soft words and hot chocolate and music. She doesn’t go home for 2 days.

Trini’s parents tell her they’re moving a week later and Trini threatens to apply for emancipation. She’s not taking this shit any more. They don’t move, but for 2 months the only members of Trini’s family that talk to her are her little brothers (who understand much more easily than adults ever will. Who love their cool big sister no matter what. Who still love to cuddle with her if she promises not to tell any of their friend ever. Who don’t understand why their parents are mad at Trini, so she tells them it’s big people stuff and they’re lucky they’re still kids).

Kim’s parents are never around. She’s avoided talking about her family for so long with her partners that they knew something wasn’t right. She tells them over e-mail and doesn’t receive a reply. She stresses and worries and agonizes over what will happen when they’re both home again, but when they finally are it’s the usual false platitudes and nightly shouting match and absolutely nothing about the e-mail.

One time, they’re all at her place and her father comes home early (parents coming home early seem to be their downfall). He tells her politely that her friends should probably leave for the night. That it’s late, and dinner would be soon, even though it’s not even 5pm. Trini’s the one who spots her tensed shoulders, her quickened breathing, and asks if she needs Trini to stay. Kim shakes her head - she’s dealt with what’s coming before, and this time she has them all there for her after.

Kim’s dad shouts too. It’s worse than Jason’s dad, because his words are shaped to cut on purpose, not out of ignorance. She shrinks as she always does, trying to give the words less of her to injure. He tells her that she’ll never bring them over again, that they’ll never mention the subject within a mile of their home ever again, that it will be forgotten. The next day her parents leave on another trip and she hugs Zach’s mom and Billy’s mom and Jason’s dad so hard because sometimes, she just really wants a parent who cares.

Angel grove whispers about them, they know it. It’s a small town, where everyone knows everyone, and where gossip spreads faster than wildfire. But they have each other, and they have 4 parental figures who love them and accept them. They have Zordon and Alpha 5 and their purpose. They have music and adventures and really, what else would they ever need.

dunno what this turned into, but hope you liked it!

#poly rangers #power rangers #clever writes #fanfic #ingeneralfangirl #ask and you shall receive

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purplefictionmom · 7 years

Text

Yay, I did Elaina’s prompts!

So, I did all of the prompts requested in @elainapoststhings‘s ask and realized that its /very/ long, so I made a post! Yay!

Keep reading under the cut to read the prompts and my comments on them :D

((I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG; MY MOVE FUCKED ALL MY SHIT UP T^T))

2. “I trusted you!” Sans/Asgore “i trusted you!” He spat, before his voice dropped and his glowing eyes followed, “i...i thought you trusted me...”

Sans couldn’t look away from the broken body of the child he had been tasked with protecting; the voice through the door had been sincere and had made him want to try...but not for this. Not to this end.

“Sans,” Asgore’s deep rumble was missing in that moment, replaced by the voice of someone who was suddenly unsure and afraid, “Sans, I am only trying to help the Underground-”

“you lied to me!” Sans bit before the king could make his excuses; Sans already knew that the moment he heard them, he’d let Asgore get off scott-free. He cared about the big pushover too much to react any other way, but this... “you told me that i could trust that you’d hear the kid out; that you’d stop all this from happening again!”

Asgore’s eyes trailed down to his trident, blood hanging off the tips of the metal; his head turned toward the child laying in the bed of flowers, but his eyes refused to move from the weapon. In his peripherals, he could still see the child, but without his focus, he could almost mistaken the child to be sleeping, rather than...

“Sans, I can’t ignore my duty to my people,” Asgore tried to sound sure, and he suceeded well enough to have the strength to look Sans in the eye, “Our...M-My people must be able to rely on their king!”

“well, you go on into that wide world, i’m not interested,” Sans turned away, his chest burning, his soul pulling back toward his king, his friend, his lover, but the small skeleton wouldn’t budge. Sans knew the reset was coming--it always came--but wondered just what he’d have to own up to in order to make this right.

Would he wake up in his bed? A complete restart where he and Asgore were still on speaking terms only? Would he suddenly wake up in the Judgement Hall, waiting for the kid to walk down to their judgment? As a judge, it was his duty to report to the king when a visitor tried to gain an audience, and he’d done his job by making Asgore promise not to hurt the kid, on the hope that Sans could keep what he had fostered with Asgore.

What they had was so fragile, so many things wanted and tried to break it: the memory of Asgore’s wife, the king’s duty to his throne, both of their anxieties at trying to find love when everything was so uncertain...

All broken, and by his lover’s own hands.

c’mon, frisk, reset already; I can’t take this pain, The thoughts didn’t help; no matter where the reset took him, he’d always have this in his rib cage. Asgore broke his promise and Sans’s trust.

And it hurt, so badly.

((I freakin love the angst from the idea of Asgore fucking up to the point that a RESET would cause him to forget his relationship with Sans; especially if they had a hard courtship and Sans realizing that not only would a RESET mean he’d have to start over but that there’s a high possibility that they won’t end up together. AHHH THE ANGST))

7. “I almost lost you” Sans/Asgore Sans stood over Asgore, his back facing the king. Asgore tried to stand, but a weakness had overtaken his limbs.

“Sans,” The ruler rumbled.

“stay down,” The eerie calm that had taken San’s voice nearly sent chills down Asgore’s spine, but his eyes were drawn to the small yellow flower that was bouncing gently to some unheard beat across the room, “i almost lost you, and that’s not gunna happen.”

“Don’t you know not to interfere?” Flowey’s voice was sickly sweet, but both Sans and Asgore could hear the dangerous undertone to it, “Don’t be an idiot; stay out of this.”

“Sans, that flower is much more-”

“i know,” Sans said quietly, “but if that thing wants to get to you, it’ll have to go through me.”

Before Asgore could protest, a blue light took over the left side of Sans; the light seemed to almost dim the light around the three of them, making itself seem all the brighter.

“its a beautiful day outside,” Sans’s voice was low still, but the tone in it made even the flower stop its eternal dance, “Bird’s are singin’, flower’s are bloomin’....”

Flowey growled, his teeth clenched, “Save the spiel for someone who cares!”

“have it your way, pal.”

Even Asgore wasn’t fooled by the sweet tone in Sans’s voice.

((It was way too easy to think of a protective Asgore; i mean, he’s a super big and powerful boss monster, no brainer. But Sans protecting Asgore? A little more interesting, especially when paired with my headcanon that nobody really knows just how powerful Sans really is.))

21. “You don’t have any right to say that” Undyne/Papyrus “Y...YOU DON’T HAVE A RIGHT TO SAY THAT!” Papyrus gripped the bone in his hand, willing it to stay even though the look Undyne was leveling with him nearly made him dissipate his magic on principle.

“I’m Captain of the Royal Guard,” Undyne crossed her arms and turned her head so she didn’t haven’t look at him, “I’m the only one who’s able to say it.”

“But-” Papyrus had to swallow and try again, “BUT I’VE WORKED SO HARD TO JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD! I CAN’T GIVE UP OR QUIT, I’M THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I...I ALWAYS...”

He couldn’t even find the words he usually hid behind so easily.

“I’m not messing around, Papyrus!” Undyne growled, but she still couldn’t meet his eyes, “You’re too...Rah! Why do you have to make this difficult!”

Except, Undyne knew the only reason this was so hard to say was because it was Papyrus and hurting Papyrus was like twisting a knife in her own gut. They’d been friends for decades, and slowly, painfully slowly, Undyne began to realize just how much she cared for the tall skeleton.

And she couldn’t face the idea of Papyrus being hurt by a human while serving as a Royal Guard. But the look on his face...Just her suggesting he find another dream and she was ready to just hand him his armor now.

“JUST GIVE ME THE CHANCE TO PROVE MYSELF, UNDYNE!” Papyrus wasn’t in tears, but by the way his voice broke, he might have been close, “I’LL SHOW YOU, I’M THE PERFECT CANDIDATE!”

She couldn’t go through with it.

“F-fine, punk! You wanna prove you’ve got what it takes!?”

“YES, UNDYNE!”

“Then you and I are going to do some super secret training!” Undyne punched the palm of her hand, a smirk appearing on her face, “Meet me at my house tomorrow at dinner time! We’re going to see just how high you can crank the heat!”

Papyrus looked so relieved, Undyne nearly flinched; there was no way she could go through with denying him from the Royal Guards now...but maybe she could direct him in a safer direction...

“I WON’T LET YOU DOWN, CAPTAIN UNDYNE! JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE: THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL LEAVE YOU IN AWE OF MY AMAZING TALENTS!”

And with that, he turned and bound off, no doubt toward Snowdin and back to his brother.

“...I don’t doubt that, Paps,” Undyne muttered to herself, her heart fluttering for a moment.

((Dude, Papyne/Undyrus was my first OTP in the Undertale fandom (it sort of died because of there being no content for them and because certain parts of the fandom are jerks who like to use the term ‘erasure’...*coughcough*) so writing this was almost nostalgic and made me happy. Just my headcanon as to why Undyne ended up teaching Paps to cook--she just can’t say ‘no’ to his goofy skele-face :3))

34. “Maybe you weren’t worth the effort” Grillby/Gaster

“You are shutting down on me,” His voice came out calmly, “...Again.”

Grillby didn’t acknowledge the words while he continued to collect dishes from the remaining tables in his bar, dumping them and their remains into the bin a little harder than he normally would.

“Whether or not you agree, I would appreciate an acknowledgement that you heard me, at the very least,” Gaster sighed, crossing his thin arms and leaning against a bar stool while he watched the fire monster continue to clean, “Or even something in the way of proving I exist to you, though your ignoring me is quite an achievement, I applaud you; normally you would be flaring and growling at me by now.”

He knew he was antagonizing Grillby, but he could take anger. Gaster could take sadness, pain, accusations, yelling, cursing, anything; anything, except being ignored. At least with the rest, he could adapt or at least try to understand why Grillby was so upset. When his fire elemental shut down like this...he couldn’t even begin to guess.

Grillby resolutely kept his mouth shut.

Gaster felt his arms nearly fall out of their position across his chest and instead folded his hands in front of his thighs, “Grillby, talk to me. You always make things so difficult when you refuse to speak and you always make me pry it out of you like I’m pulling thistles or splinters.”

A sigh, warm from his breath and flaring from his anger, was released from Grillby’s mouth and he straightened up to look at Gaster expectantly, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

Gaster suddenly felt on the spot and glanced away. He tried to gather his thoughts but his mouth was already moving, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“...It’s closing time,” Grillby said, motioning to the door before he turned to grab his bin; he started for the back, toward the kitchen.

“I-what?” Gaster’s mouth fell in shock; Grillby just dismissed him, like a child a parent was finally fed up with dealing with, “I have worked day in and day out to keep our relationship floating, despite you shutting down at every hard situation and every bad argument! I did all of that for you and you just want me gone?”

Grillby stopped when he leveled with the bar, but he didn’t say anything. His own thoughts were a whirlwind of irritation, pain and anger, but he didn’t think he could ever find all the words he needed in order to express himself. He wasn’t like Gaster--he didn’t have an expanded vocabulary or the brains to articulate, so why should he bother?

Gaster felt tears sting his eyes, but he refused to let them fall--not while he was still in the same room with Grillby.

“Fine,” he spat, pushing off the bar stool hard enough to knock it over, “Fine!”

He stormed toward the door, hating himself because he couldn’t stop the first tear from escaping him, nor the second.

Gaster couldn’t--didn’t want to--stop himself from turning back once he reached the door and spitting out, “Maybe you weren’t worth the effort.”

And he slammed the door.

((Grillster/Gasby is my guilty pleasure; i love both of these monster and i just love them both together~ This is sort of going off of an idea that Grillby is the strong silent type--and the thing about silent types is that I could see them shutting down when faced with a fight with their much more eloquent partner))

48. “You think I need you? Because I don’t” Papyrus/Mettaton

Papyrus tried to catch his breath, but every time he thought he found it, Mettaton would throw another slur, or bite him with more sarcastic comments that hit his soul with all the force of a magical attack, but without the resulting damage to his HP.

“M-METTATON, DON’T DO THIS!” Papyrus pleaded, watching the robot continue to pack his things, “I DON’T TRUST THAT HUMAN; HE KEEPS TREATING YOU LIKE YOU’RE NOT A PERSON-”

“At least he cares about my dreams!” Mettaton glared--not an easy feat when you’re a square box with a grid of lights for a face, but he managed it, “Mr. Schuller says he can make me a star here on the surface!”

Papyrus put his hands up defensively, though he knew it wouldn’t protect him from the robot’s words.

“TONNIE, I WANT EVERYONE TO SEE HOW AMAZING YOU ARE, JUST AS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SEE YOU,” Papyrus looked away, “CAN’T YOU JUST FIND ANOTHER AGENT?”

“Oh ho! Trying to make out to seem foolish?” Mettaton gave a flourish as he spun back to his suitcase, “Well, it won’t work, because I looked up Mr. Schuller and he’s the best! Only the best for a star such as myself~!”

Papyrus rubbed the back of his neck; no matter how much he wanted to be supportive of his wonderful robotfriend, he couldn’t leave the thought alone that Schuller was...not what he appeared to be.

“I’M JUST WORRIED ABOUT YOU; DO NOT FORGET THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM YOU BIGGEST FAN AND THE BEST FAN THERE COULD BE! OF COURSE I WANT YOU TO SUCCEED!”

Mettaton turned, crossing one arm cross his chest and raising the other hand to touch his face-plate in an almost studying manner.

“Darling,” Mettaton almost purred, “You think I need you? Because I don’t. I’m going to have millions of humans to root for me now!”

Papyrus froze, pain blooming in his chest so suddenly that he had to glance down to make sure he hadn’t been attacked--magically or otherwise. Mettaton didn’t bat a light before he turned around to continue packing, but Papyrus was having a hard time breathing again. This time, it was worse. Breathing actually made it hurt worse.

“I...I UNDERSTAND, METTATON, I...” Papyrus tried to clear his throat--not that he had one to clear--before trying to speak again, “I WAS JUST WORRIED ABOUT MY VERY SPECIAL FRIEND, BECAUSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS THE BEST AT WORRYING OVER FRIENDS....YES...THAT’S IT.”

His legs felt weak and he wanted to collapse onto the chair near him, but Mettaton turned to him again, now with a packed suitcase in hand.

“Well, darling, don’t you worry your pretty skull,” Mettaton huffed, “I’m not yours to worry about anymore, am I? Toodles!”

And with that, the robot left the room, without looking back.

Papyrus finally collapsed into the chair, and didn’t move again until Sans forced him to eat a day later.

((I hate the trope of Mettaton just being the easy out for who’s ‘wrong’ in a relationship, and if I had about 2000-3000 more words, I could probably kill the trope with a good old character examination about how badly Mettaton wants to be a famous actor/singer/famous person and probably pair this scene with something redeeming (Maybe Mettaton realizing Papyrus is right about Schuller and finding a new agent? idk...hmm....oh well, enjoy the open-ended angst!))

52. “Who did this to you?” Alphys/Undyne Nothing suggested today was anything other than normal when Alphys first heard the door, indicating that Undyne had arrived home. It wasn’t until the small dinosaur heard her girlfriend collapse onto the couch in a very un-Undyne style that Alphys started to notice that despite Undyne being home, she had yet to hear the fish monster exclaim her return in the usual style: bounding into whatever room Alphys was in and exclaiming her happiness at seeing Alphys while picking her up and spinning her once or twice.

In fact, Undyne hadn’t made any noise at all.

A small form of panic started in Alphys’s chest as she moved from her place in the kitchen toward the living room, forcing herself not to run, not to call out in a panicking shriek.

What she saw wasn’t as bad as what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t good either.

Undyne sat on the couch, lounging back into the cushions and pillows as she nursed a black eye and bleeding cut on her cheek bone. Alphys knew something more was wrong, because Undyne hadn’t even heard Alphys walk in.

“O-Oh my g-gosh! U-Undyne, who d-did this to y-you??”

As soon as Undyne heard Alphys’s voice, she sat up straight and immediately started with her boisterous answer, “Ha! It was just some anti-monster punks in the building--they walked away worse, yeah!”

Alphys knew it wasn’t true; monsters weren’t allowed to use their magic in the city limits until Asgore and Toriel were done helping integrate monsters into human society and making it fair for everyone. It had taken so long to get it where it was, but there were so many humans who were afriad, and mean, and just plain evil.

Her clawed hand came up to inspect the wound and black eye, gently turning Undyne’s face so she could get a better look. The bruise was light, but the cut was still bleeding a little. Alphys gathered a little magic into her hands and gently began to heal both, though her focus began to get blurry as she worked.

“Aw, Alph,” Undyne frowned, “Don’t cry...”

“I c-can’t help it,” Alphys grit her teeth, “I’m...I’m j-just so m-mad!”

Undyne blinked before a small blush appeared on her face, “Aw, geez...didn’t think you’d get all burned up over a little thing like this...”

“You’re not a little thing,” Alphys huffed, “You’re my girlfriend.”

Despite the day, and the world, and all the shit that Undyne had to endure since coming to the Surface, Undyne realized that to hear that from Alphys’s mouth, she’d do it all over again, in a heartbeat.

((Like Sansgore, it was too easy to imagine Undyne being the protective party saying ‘who did this to you’ and avenging her perfect dino-girlfriend with glowing spears (though the idea is epic in and of itself haha), but i love exploring Alphys and her personality. I could see the small monster being protective, even if she doesn’t feel like she could actually do anything.))

65. “Because I love you god damn it!” My Choice: Reader/Grillby

His hands shook as the green magic surrounded his hands. Your skin was mottled with a few bruises near your eye, but thankfully, you had been spared a real black eye. You hadn’t been spared from the busted lip, or the bloody nose, however.

“Tell me who did this,” Grillby demanded again--for what felt like the hundredth time--but you shook your head.

“No; it was a few humans and you aren’t allowed to retaliate,” You said the same words again, but this time you added, “I don’t want you to get in trouble over something small like this.”

“How can you call this small?” He growled. Grillby never yelled, but the way his flames sparked and grew told you how angry he really was, “If it weren’t for my healing magic, you’d have these bruises for weeks.”

“I appreciate the worry,” You reached up to gently touch his wrist, but he jerked his arm away, “Don’t do that.”

He didn’t answer you, or respond to your reprimand; he simply continued to heal you until all that was left was dried blood that still clung to your skin. You tried to wipe it away, but it flaked and left small dust-like red chips all over your shirt.

You stood to head into the bathroom, where you could properly clean up, but his voice stopped you.

“You have to stop coming over,” He said, “Spending time with me after work isn’t worth this.”

He waved a hand in your direction, but you knew he meant the injuries.

“Isn’t that my decision?” You felt your hands ball into fists at your sides, “A few anti-monster assholes aren’t going to keep me from hanging out with you! I can’t come before the bar opens because you’re up so late, and you only close up the bar one day a year, so what--I’m only allowed to see you the day after New Year’s?”

“Don’t make this hard,” He crossed his arms, and even from across the room towered over you, “This is your health and safety we’re talking about--how could I compare a few hours with you for that?”

Tears stung your eyes--so he still had no idea? Figures, you’d have to spell it out for him. Before you could, Grillby was speaking again.

“You can’t come back,” His voice was firm, “If you won’t listen, I’ll just ban you from my bar--it wouldn’t be hard, with my magic.”

A small panic shot through you--being banned from Grillby’s bar meant that you couldn’t even get in the door; his magic was linked almost directly with the building, and it was something that only Grillby could do, as far as you could tell--you couldn’t let him do that. Living the rest of your life, not able to even see Grillby, on top of him refusing to see you after hours?

The promise of that kind of pain made you glare at the fire monster, “Don’t you dare! I thought we were friends, Grillby!?”

“And as your friend, I’m worried about you!” He snapped, “You showed up 15 minutes after you leave for the night with blood dripping down your face and you act like its nothing!”

“It is nothing,” You couldn’t stop your voice from raising, “You healed it up in 5 minutes flat and after I wash away this blood, it’ll be like it never happened!”

“But it did!” Grillby flared up, his own voice growing, “It happened and I wasn’t there to protect you! Why can’t you just listen for once and keep my mind at ease?!”

“Because I love you, god dammit!” You spat, stomping your foot like a toddler and tears forcing their way to your eyes, “I can’t stand the idea of living for a single day where I can’t see you, talk to you, be with you!”

A hiccup escaped your throat, interrupting your voice, but Grillby didn’t raise his voice again; he couldn’t even find his voice after what you said. Love? You risked life and safety for him because you-

A sob shook your shoulders and interrupted his thoughts, “Dammit, I-”

You turned away; instead of heading for the bathroom, though, you were heading for the front door.

Grillby reached out, though he was no where close enough to touch you, “Wait-”

“No!” You spat, “You don’t want me around, fine! Just...FINE!”

The door slammed behind you, but not before Grillby heard another sob leave your throat.

((I’m so thirsty for Gaster/Reader and Grillby/Reader, but ooooh boy, am I thirsty for this sort of tension in a Grillby/Reader fic haha. Grillby is usually portrayed as level-headed and all that, but he’s a fire monster. Give me passion and hot-headed and burning love anyday *dreamy sigh*))

((I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS ELAINA I’M SO SORRY ITS LATE T^T))

#elainapoststhings #drabbles #requests #omg i was supposed to write these /months/ ago #i'm so sorry lovely #T^T #undertale #undertale drabbles

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idontneedtobeforgiven · 6 years

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holy shit i literally have no words for your vm fic on ao3 it was so good! now i'm dying to know the story of how tessa gave scott his first bj 😏

Aw thank you! Originally, I got the idea of Scott teaching Tessa how to drive as something just purely fluffy but then I added it to this story and just made it smutty lmao. Here’s a very short, rough drabble as to how that went down

This is not a short and rough drabble. This somehow became 3330 words of how Scott received his first blowjob. It’s probably garbage but HERE YA GO!

Teaching Tessa how to drive is kind of pointless. Her parents gave her Kevin’s old car for her to learn on and Tessa rolls her eyes when Scott tells her to just take it slow, to ease her foot on the pedal. She pulls on to the empty stretch of road like she’s been driving for years. “It’s not that difficult,” she says, checking the rear view mirror and over her shoulder before she changes lanes. “I’ve been watching you drive forever. It’s just a confidence game.”

The next time he takes her out, it’s in his truck which is a stick, and this doesn’t come easy to her in the least bit. She gets this look on her face that he’s only seen on the ice before, an angry calm that wrinkles her brow and turns down the corner of her lips. The truck dies five times and they haven’t even left the side of the road, only made it a few feet down from where Scott parked it to begin with.

Tessa isn’t a quitter but he knows she’s getting frustrated with herself so he opens up the glove compartment and pulls out the chocolate she had stashed there. “I don’t deserve any,” she says when he holds out a square and Scott rolls his eyes and throws the chocolate at her anyway.

“You’re not going to get it in one day, T. I didn’t.”

She picks up the piece of chocolate that landed on the seat between them, blows off some fuzz and pops it in her mouth. “I guess.”

Scott reaches over, turns the keys to the off position. They pass the chocolate back and forth, talking about nothing and everything. It’s nice in a weird way, because it hasn’t been this easy between them in a few years. It’s probably mostly his fault but he wouldn’t say that aloud, ever.

For the next week on their way home from training, he drives them to this same stretch of road and Tessa fails to get them very far from where they start. She’s still annoyed each time but it always ends in them spending at least an hour talking when she gives up for the night (or when he tells her she needs to stop because he doesn’t want his truck to completely fuck up). He tells her about breaking up with his girlfriend and how his teacher thinks he should go up a math course. She tells him about the dissection in her bio class and how her mom keeps pushing for her to go on birth control.

“I can’t afford the weight gain,” she sighs before picking up their shared gatorade and taking a sip. “Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything down there.”

“Tess,” he groans and she rolls her eyes as she passes him the drink.

“Shut up, it’s not like I don’t know you’re having sex. Don’t be such a baby.”

“You’re fourteen,” he says, trying to defend how uncomfortable he is at the thought of Tessa like that.

“You had sex two days before your fifteenth birthday,” she deadpans. “Besides, you still look like you’re fourteen.”

“Rude,” he grumbles. She rolls her eyes again as he recaps the drink and she fishes a carrot out of the plastic baggy between them. “You’re not though, right?”

“Having sex?” He nods. “No, I told you, nothing is going on down here,” she says, motioning to her pelvis with her carrot before she takes a bite. “Well, nothing with a penis.”

“Tessa,” he moans, hand coming up to rub at his face. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“You asked!”

It’s silent for a moment and yeah, he has to do this. He knows Tessa can take care of herself but he’s a teenage boy and he knows that all teenage boys are douches. “You’re not doing anything you don’t want to do right?” He doesn’t look at her while he speaks, hopes that he’s not pink in the face with the fact that he’s talking to Tessa about sex. Period talk he can handle. This, he cannot.

“I promise that I’m only doing things I want to do,” she says. He feels her hand on his and he looks up to find her smiling at him. “Thanks for worrying though.”

The next week, Tessa manages to keep his truck alive long enough to pull out on the road but that’s about as far she she can get. He tries to get her comfortable just using the clutch, taking control of the stick shift while she focuses solely on getting her feet right. It helps at least get them back over to the side of the road and when he asks if she wants to try again, she shrugs and tells him to pull out the snacks she packed in her bag.

They talk about making the potential switch to online classes. She worries that it’ll isolate them too much, won’t give them enough time to keep up with friendships outside of the skating world, and he’s inclined to agree. He brings up the fact that online classes could at least help them move faster, bringing up how bored she is with her English and history courses and mentions again how bored he is in his math class.

He finishes off the kale chips she made and she looks deep in thought and he’s expecting her to go quite for a while when suddenly she looks at him, face blank. “When was the last time you got off?” He looks at her like she’s grown three heads and she lets out the heaviest sigh. “Scott, you were getting hard during practice today. That hasn’t happened since you were like, thirteen.”

“Sorry,” he says in lieu of anything else and his face feels like it’s on fire.

“I don’t care,” she says. “I just thought you might.” He hopes that’s the end of it but Tessa doesn’t let it go. “I know you’re single now but-”

“Please do not continue-”

“You should mast-”

“Tessa, stop-”

“It’s a natural part of life, Scott!”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay, even if you don’t want to take care of yourself, surely there are other girls who will-”

“Tessa,” he shouts, putting his hand over her mouth. Her eyes go wide above his hand. “I’m not talking about my dick with you.” Her eyebrows drop down and then his hand is wet and he pulls it back, wiping where she licked on his jeans.

“We talk about my period, why can’t we talk about this?” He doesn��t look at her, just opens his door and tells her to slide across the bench.

Another week passes and Tessa manages to get her foot work down. They can make it down the road so long as Scott is the one controlling the stick shift and Tessa looks so proud of herself that Scott knows he’s smiling like an idiot. He thinks she could try working the stick after the U turn she takes but after shifting into the wrong gear three times and his truck makes a scary noise, he takes back over.

When they pull over to have their snacks (this time he brought cookies that his mom sent down and they picked up some chocolate milk from the corner store they pass on their way to the rink), Tessa turns so her back is resting on the door, legs pulled up on to the seat. “You know Lily, right?” He nods. “I bet she’d go out with you if you asked.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Okay…”

Tessa wiggles in her seat. “She puts out,” Tessa says nonchalantly, picking out the m&ms from the cookie in her hand.

“Are we really talking about this again?”

Tessa shrugs. “You got hard at practice again.” He groans, apology on the tip of his tongue but Tessa just sticks out a foot, pokes his thigh. “It’s fine. I just think you should take care of yourself.”

“I don’t want to fuck Lily.”

“Nobody said you had to have sex with her.”

“What else would I do?” He watches her stare at him blankly for a moment before she does the crudest thing he has ever seen a girl do (and he’s had sex so this is saying a lot). She moves her lips into the shape of an O, tongue pushing out the side of one of her cheeks, fist coming towards her mouth to move in time with her tongue. “Oh my god,” he groans. “I can’t believe you just- Oh my god.” He screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. “No. I’m not- Girls don’t even like doing that.”

Tessa blinks, once, twice, then, very timidly, says, “I do.” His head jerks up to look at her and she looks nervous now, like she hasn’t just been matter-of-factly been talking about sex with him a few times now. “Is that weird?”

He stutters a little, unsure of how to handle this. “I think you’re probably the minority in this case, T.” Tessa looks thoughtful, staring not really at him but definitely in his direction. “I wouldn’t ever ask a girl to do that if she didn’t want to…” He swallows hard. He’s never asked any girl he’s been with for a blowjob, never felt the need to. He knows that most girls just see it as a chore and he’s sure it’s great (his brothers tell him it is) but if sex, actual sex, is on the table, why wouldn’t he just go for that? It’s so, so weird to hear that Tessa’s given blowjobs and he tries to tell himself it’s because she’s younger, tries to tell himself it’s because it’s Tessa, who he’s known since she was seven, tries to tell himself that it’s because he didn’t expect Tessa to do something before him when it came to sex. He tries to ignore the way his boxers start to tighten and god, no, no, no.

Tessa’s definitely staring at him now, considering. Then, she licks her lips and says, “I’ll blow you.” His reaction is to scoff or maybe to laugh but his dick twitches like an absolute traitor and words get lodged in his throat until something akin to a whine and a groan snakes its way out. He lets out a heavy breath through his nose and his hands have clenched into fists at his side. He starts to shake his head but Tessa rolls her eyes at him (and god, she’s doing that so much now, it’s so irritating). “If it’s going to stop you from getting a semi every practice, I’m happy to do it.”

It sounds like some sort of pity blowjob and no, that’s not how his first blowjob is going to go down.

“What,” she asks, voice about an octave higher than normal. He looks at her confused and she continues. “You’ve never had a blowjob?”

“I said that out loud,” he practically yells and she breaks into a fit of laughter while he feels like leaving her here in his truck while he walks home. “Tess,” he groans and he can hear her working to slow her breathing in an effort to stop her giggling. “Can we please just pretend this entire day didn’t happen?”

“Nope,” she says, lips popping the word out. She moves the cookies out of the middle of the seat so she can slide closer to him. She leaves space to breathe, space for him to bolt if he needs to. “Scott?” She says his name slow and measured. “Can you look at me please?” He does even though he feels like dying and it really just is so unfair that she looks older than he does. “Can I blow you,” she asks sincerely and Scott really cannot believe this is happening.

“You don’t ha-”

“I want to,” she’s quick to add and that seems like something they should probably talk about. “I told you, I like doing it. And it’ll help you cool off for practices.” She gives a little shrug. “It’s a win-win.”

This seems like a bad idea. No, he’s almost certain this is a bad idea. But he can feel himself getting flustered more now that she’s closer and saying all this stuff and before he fully realizes it, he’s nodding and she’s smiling and her hands are on his sweats.

He wants to touch her too, thinks he should, but he doesn’t know if that’s allowed. He tucks his hands under his thighs so he doesn’t accidentally do something that’ll make her hate him (or him hate himself). Her fingers hook under the waistband of his clothes and he lets his head fall back, not sure he can handle watching her do this. It’s uncomfortably quiet in the cab of his truck and he almost wants to stop her so that they can put on some music but then he hears her spit and then a wet hand wraps around his half hard dick, grip just right. She strokes him a few times and his breathing has definitely gotten heavier and he thinks that hers has too but it’s hard to focus with his heart beating so hard in his ears.

“Condom,” she asks once he’s fully hard in her hand.

“Backpack.” It’s cold when she pulls away to reach into the backseat, his dick left bobbing in the air but she makes quick work of finding the condom that was thankfully still in there. She rolls it on him easily and it makes his stomach churn thinking about how often she’s done this. Not that there’s anything wrong with it if she has done this a lot. It’s just not something he expected from Tessa. Tessa who he’s known since she was seven.

How is he letting this happen?

“Oh,” she mutters and that doesn’t sound good. “How long has this been in your backpack?”

He opens his eyes, finds her looking at his dick most concerned. He looks down, sees the slight rip in the condom at the side about half way down. “Shit,” he sighs but then, maybe this is the sign he’s been looking for. They really shouldn’t be doing this and this is a sign.

She drags the condom off his dick and his hips jump into her hand. She pauses. “Are you clean?”

She still wants to do this.

Holy sweet hell.

“You’d know if I went to the doctor,” he says because it’s true. Sometimes it feels like he can’t even take a shit without Tessa knowing they spend so much of their time together.

Tessa considers this and then gives a little nod. “Okay,” she says and then she’s scooting back, broken condom dropped to the floorboard. He needs to remember to throw that out when he gets home.

She’s given herself enough space to bend forward comfortably and when her tongue first grazes his dick, he bites his lip so hard, he’s sure it’s going to bleed.

Her tongue licks the length of him twice, her hand coming to wrap tight around the base of his cock when her mouth moves to take him in. She starts slow, first only taking in the head of his cock while her hand shortly strokes him. Her mouth is so warm, so wet, and her tongue is rigid as it swirls around him. With each bob of her head, she takes him a little deeper, keeps working her hand in time with her mouth.

He still hasn’t looked down at her but then he feels the soft scrape of her teeth and his hips jerk, pushing himself deeper than she’s gone so far and his eyes open wide. He didn’t mean to do that, hopes she isn’t upset, but, even though he can hear her choke a little, she moans. She moans loud and he feels the vibrations around him and he digs his hands into the seat underneath him.

Tessa pulls him out of her mouth and oh, there’s so much saliva hanging from her mouth, connecting her to his dick which glistens with her. “You can do that again,” she pants, looking him in the eye. He can’t stop looking at her swollen lips or the way her eye make up has started to run. It’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time again and his heart stutters in his chest and his dick twitches in her grip. She bends back down, head bobbing twice before she pulls off him again slowly, cheeks hollowed and eyes looking up at him. With her free hand, she taps his arm. “You can touch me, if you want,” she says, running her tongue over her lips. “I don’t mind if you pull my hair… I like it.”

How he doesn’t immediately cum in her hand, Scott has no idea.

She’s on him again, wrist twisting as it glides over him, mouth and tongue taking more and more and more until he can feel her swallow around him. Hesitantly, he puts a hand to her hair, lets his fingers thread through the tangled locks. Like a reward, she moves faster, her teeth coming into play again. He grips the hair at the base of her skull and when he gives it an experimental tug, the whine she releases is muffled by his cock.

Motivated by her noises, he keeps a strong hold on her hair and he must be doing something right because Tessa seems to go into overdrive. She sucks him off hard and deep, her nose brushing his thigh, and the hand that had been aiding her has moved down to cup his balls through his pants. It makes him jerk into her mouth again. No one else has ever done that before.

She rolls them softly in her hand and Scott can feel himself sweating, his breath coming in harsh pants. “T,” he groans, trying to actually pull her off him because if she keeps going, he’s going to cum in her mouth. “T,” he repeats. “I’m gonna cum.”

To his complete and utter surprise, she gives him a thumbs up and stays on his dick. In fact, her efforts seem to double down and she only manages to bob her head three more times before he seizes in her mouth. She tries, he can tell, to swallow it all, but her head isn’t in the right spot or maybe her lips aren’t tight enough around him and so some spills out, running from her mouth and down the sides of his cock. She keeps sucking though, keeps going until his dick settles and softens in her mouth.

She leans back on her knees, lips and chin covered in a mixture of his cum and her saliva and he can feel the stirrings of arousal low in his belly even though he just came.

She looks like a glorious mess. She wipes at her face with her hands, takes her fingers in her mouth to clean them and she looks so proud of herself, lips puffy and red stretching into a shy smile. Shy, like she didn’t just have his dick in his mouth, like the taste of his cum isn’t on her tongue.

“Jesus fucking christ, Tessa,” he breathes out. She smiles a little wider and grabs his water bottle from where the cupholder, pushing it into his shaking hand. Oh, he’s shaking. Jesus.

“What’re friends for,” she says and takes the bottle back from him to take a swig of her own. He feels like he needs to do something in return and the thought of touching Tessa like she just touched him sends his head spinning. She seems to read his mind and shakes her head. “I’m on my period,” she reminds him. “But let’s just say you owe me one when I need it?”

All Scott can do is nod.

#olympic otp #FANFICTION!#I'm probably going to post this to AO3 #just due to the sheer length

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usatrendingsports · 6 years

Text

Within the shadow of our opioid disaster, a school soccer participant finds a household and a future

MIDDLETOWN, N.J. — There’s completely no purpose Thomas Lopez must be telling anybody his life story.

To begin with, it is none your corporation. Would you need folks realizing your mom was a heroin addict who overdosed in entrance of you — twice?

Who would admit to an alienation so deep that his first Mom’s Day with the girl who introduced him into the world got here eight months in the past.

For that matter, why ought to anybody care a couple of 6-foot-5, 310-pound offensive sort out buried inside a storefront junior school in downtown Brooklyn, New York?

You do not know Thomas Lopez, however his story is America’s in 2018. It’s flawed and horrible and inspirational and poignant. It shines a light-weight on the human situation, the nation’s opioid epidemic, soccer tradition and the frequent decency instilled in all of us.

However why is Thomas Lopez — who inked with Ball State throughout the Early Signing Interval — telling anybody any of this? It seems we have to know.

Addicts disguise in plain sight. Fractured households limp by day by day.

One of the best underdog tales aren’t restricted to slickly-produced weepers on ESPN’s “Faculty GameDay.”

“I feel it is lastly time for me to elucidate every little thing,” Lopez mentioned, “present folks every little thing.”

Thomas Lopez at an ASA Faculty observe. Thomas Lopez

Blink and you’ll miss ASA Faculty. The junior school at 81 Willoughby Road in downtown Brooklyn may go for an workplace constructing, a temp company or a authorities outpost.

The burden room is three blocks away in a dorm basement. Gamers bus 40 minutes to practices at a neighborhood highschool. The Avengers bussed 35 hours to play junior school energy Trinity Valley in Texas. The Brooklyn “campus” homes the one junior school soccer program in New York Metropolis. Glamour shouldn’t be the highest promoting level.

“I used to be born in Brooklyn, however I used to be like, ‘Oh my God. This isn’t like the universities I do know,”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM; mentioned Lopez’ maternal grandmother Linda Heintz, who helped increase him. “He would come residence typically and say, ‘I can not take it anymore.”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

There are 5 for-profit ASA campuses scattered by the New York Metropolis space and in South Florida. Soccer was added to the ASA system solely 9 years in the past.

“With out soccer, none of this implies shit,” mentioned Vinnie Rizzo, the Avengers’ offensive line coach.

It is that sort of mentality that drew Lopez from close by Middletown, New Jersey. It was shut (46 miles), and it was an inexpensive with an athletic scholarship.

“Simply the actual fact I have never paid a single penny for faculty is fairly wonderful,” Lopez mentioned.

Not that he had a lot of a alternative. His mom, Tracy, was out and in of his life with a drug drawback. His mother and father divorced quickly after he was born.

Out of Middletown South Excessive College, Lopez was pursued by Rutgers as a walk-on candidate. FAU might or might not have been , however Lopez was so uninformed about what it took academically to play school soccer that he did not know till weeks earlier than enrollment that he was a non-qualifier. There was no manner he may get a scholarship.

Somebody needed to clarify the idea to him.

“If it wasn’t for me waking up and having my again in opposition to the wall, this all would not come to fruition in any respect,” Lopez mentioned this summer season going into his second ASA season.

In the midst of a dreary cinderblock dorm room in the summertime of 2016, a line was drawn. Soccer was a way to finish.

Lopez desires to be an accountant, attend a famous enterprise faculty. He is good sufficient and sufficiently big, simply tremendously deprived — backed into society’s nook. That is principally what JUCO soccer is: a final resort. The gamers share a standard bond. As soccer prospects, they’re virtually all poor both bodily, academically or legally. Generally all three.

It is a tradition so amazingly determined Netflix created the hit actuality documentary “Final Probability U.” ASA’s program was a finalist to be featured for the 2017 season.

“There was actually no construction on this program,” mentioned Avengers coach Joe Osovet, who took over in 2016. “The prisoners ran the asylum. Being in a JUCO, these youngsters want construction. They need construction. A number of them have by no means had construction of their life. That is why they’re right here.”

That is actually why Thomas Lopez was right here. At ASA, he placed on 40 kilos and located a objective.

“He has every little thing you need in an offensive lineman,” Rizzo mentioned. “He is a troublesome, nasty child. He is a prick. He jogs my memory of myself once I performed. I would just bury guys.”

As soon as dedicated to Scott Frost and UCF, Lopez was disillusioned to search out one other vagary of junior school: timing. The second semester began at UCF on Jan. eight. Lopez will not get his associates diploma from ASA till late January.

Akron coach Terry Bowden turned up the recruiting warmth. As a part of the recruiting course of, Lopez’s step grandmother was allowed to name Bobby Bowden, Terry’s hall-of-fame dad.

“I simply talked to a residing legend,” mentioned Julie Chidichimo, a Florida State alum.

If it takes a village, then this village was blessed with the gene that makes people dive into flood waters to rescue drowning victims. Coaches, household, associates, a girlfriend, all of them bought Thomas Lopez to this second.

However principally it was Thomas getting Thomas to this second. A 3-star JUCO recruit who performed for a state champion at Middletown South discovered his subsequent soccer residence.

Quickly after, he discovered a life steadiness.

Tracy Lopez (proper) watches on as her son indicators with Ball State. Thomas Lopez

“I used to be fortunate sufficient to be born,” Thomas Lopez mentioned. “My mother was doing [heroin] earlier than [my birth].”

Whereas there was no heart to his day-to-day existence, his mom, Tracy, was actually the each day heart of his points.

“She’s all the time had psychological points since she was just a little baby,” Heintz mentioned. “They informed me a very long time in the past if she did not [abuse drugs] that she would have most likely killed herself.”

Tracy Lopez, 38, reluctantly agreed to an interview with CBS Sports activities. She emerged from a again room at Heintz’s residence earlier this season whereas nonetheless in therapy for her habit.

“I am a nervous wreck. I have been freaking out all week,” she mentioned.

She then went into element about that first Mom’s Day along with her solely baby, now 20. It got here in Might. Tracy was nicely sufficient to attend a household get collectively.

The son and mom exchanged playing cards.

“Mine was easy: Comfortable Mom’s Day,” Thomas mentioned.

“It was a giant deal for me as a result of that is my first yr,” Tracy mentioned, “… as a result of I often do take a setback.”

Mom and son have reconciled. The factor is, although, a motherless Mom’s Day is greater than annually. It is kindergarten, bake gross sales, Cub Scouts, Halloween, Christmas — all of it typically and not using a mother.

“Whenever you’re little, you are type of confused,” Lopez mentioned. “You are numb to all of it. It hits you in center faculty and highschool. You begin experiencing issues. I really feel like I matured so much sooner than different folks. I needed to shield myself.”

Lopez principally grew up with out his start mom and father however with a household. One which collectively hugged him in its arms, not wanting him to slide away.

“He was actually a feral baby,” mentioned Peter Kafaf, a private coach who labored creating Lopez’s soccer abilities. “He had individuals who beloved him, however Thomas’ character got here from Thomas.

“You haven’t any help at residence. You get no steerage. You attempt to preserve your mom from dying as a result of she’s overdosing. You come residence to search out her on the ground and foam spewing out of her mouth.”

The addicted amongst us can typically perform at a excessive degree. However the addicted may drag down a complete household.

They do not train you wherever how you can dig right down to the final penny of your $600-a-month baby help fee to deal with your mother’s behavior. Lopez did that on no less than one event.

“I have never eaten in two days,” Lopez as soon as informed Kafaf. “I had to make use of my meals cash to purchase my mom methadone.”

There is no such thing as a primer to rebound from hopelessness.

“I used to be pissed off at every little thing,” Lopez mentioned. “I used to be pissed off I did not have the identical residence life. The place my grandmother lives is a very nice space. Mine was a very good faculty. All the youngsters have very nice lives, and I used to be like, ‘Why do I not have this?”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

“I actually did not care in highschool,” Lopez added. “It actually hit me once I got here right here, once I realized I do not need to turn into what my mother and father had been.”

Tracy Lopez (center) and Thomas Lopez (proper) on the residence of Linda Heintz (left). Dennis Dodd

This American household drama was performed out within the relative opulence of the New Jersey suburbs. Middletown is an upscale group inside driving distance of New York. Heintz’s residence must be within the Nationwide Register of Historic Locations.

It was in-built 1720. A film was filmed there. In that pastoral setting, Heintz remembers the dialogue along with her two different youngsters sitting on the steps of the entrance porch deciding who needed to go inside to are inclined to Tracy after one other bender.

You go in.

No, you go in.

Is she nonetheless respiratory?

Are you able to see her chest transfer?

“We have been by so much on this home,” Heintz mentioned.

Her husband as soon as ran a psychiatric hospital. A easy Achilles surgical procedure was tragedy. Problems triggered an absence of oxygen throughout the process that led to mind injury.

“Thomas used to say, ‘This daddy’s damaged. We want a brand new one,”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM; Heintz recalled.

Thomas Heintz — really Thomas’ grandfather — was in a coma for a month. He lasted seven extra years. Thomas was named after him.

“I used to be then taking good care of somebody who had a mind damage. You simply do it,” Linda Heintz mentioned. “That is when Tracy had her issues.”

The opioid drawback within the U.S. is actual. The category of doubtless addictive painkillers is being prescribed at report charges although the quantity of ache reported by People hasn’t elevated, in keeping with the Facilities for Illness Management and Prevention.

Abuse of heroin, oxycodone and the like cuts throughout all lessons, all incomes. In October, President Donald Trump declared an opioid epidemic a nationwide well being emergency.

On common, 91 People die every day on account of an opioid overdose. Lopez says his greatest good friend bought hooked on heroin in eighth grade.

“Medicine are an enormous drawback in my space of New Jersey,” Lopez mentioned. “I by no means need to undergo any of that once more. I noticed issues I can not actually take again. It is nonetheless there behind my thoughts.”

It’s at this level a promising younger grownup along with his entire life forward has to think about what’s going to all the time be part of him.

“I noticed every little thing,” Lopez mentioned. “I noticed my mom overdose twice. The day after my junior promenade, I noticed her on the ground. I came visiting, hungover. I noticed her on the ground. She was not responding. I used to be making an attempt every little thing to wake her up. I referred to as the police. They ended up bringing her again. The second time, police needed to do an inside investigation. She did not get arrested. She had some on her.”

In some way, Tracy remains to be round and in a position to recall — in vivid element — her son’s youth. Too huge for Pop Warner soccer, Thomas gravitated to different sports activities. He beloved baseball, as soon as scooping up a handful of infield grime at Yankee Stadium, pocketing it for a memento. A Chicago Bears’ fan, Lopez as soon as wrote Brian Urlacher submitting a listing of gamers that will assist the Bears win the Tremendous Bowl.

“I actually really feel like Thomas discovered father figures by sports activities, by the years, all these males,” Tracy mentioned. “I knew he needed to get his aggression out someplace.”

Uncle Mark in Staten Island by no means missed Thomas’ highschool video games. His step grandfather turned him on to the Bears.

“A number of instances, I really feel like I used to be right here however I wasn’t current,” Tracy mentioned. “In some way, by all of it, he discovered some nice parenting and sports activities. I consider it saved him.”

Kafaf got here into Lopez’s life by likelihood. The chief vp of the swimwear division of Nautica works with native New Jersey gamers professional bono on their method. Regardless of a robust job, a 1 ½-hour commute into the town and a household of his personal in Truthful Haven, Kafaf helps out of the goodness of his coronary heart.

He tutored five-star stud Rashan Gary at Paramus (N.J.) Catholic; Gary is now at Michigan. Offensive lineman Will Fries was one among 17 freshman to play at Penn State this season. St. Louis Rams linebacker Garrett Sickels is from close by Purple Financial institution.

Kafaf contends Penn State coach James Franklin would rent him proper now if there was a gap. However this a vocation that has lasted 9 years. All Kafaf costs is a hat from the school his pupils select.

“In case you’re dedicated, I am going to work with you,” Kafaf informed Lopez. “However this is the knock on you: I hear you are weak. I hear you are smooth. I hear you do not need it. I hear you do not have coronary heart. If that is what you need, go play the flute.”

Certainly, Lopez injured his shoulder early on. What Kafaf says was Crohn’s Illness triggered Lopez to drop extra pounds.

When the kid help ran out that month, Lopez lastly broke down and informed Kafaf his state of affairs. The pair shortly bought within the automotive and went to the native grocery store.

“Purchase no matter you need,” Kafaf informed him. “If that ever occurs to you once more, you name me. Do not go hungry.”

Heintz remembers being stunned by the grocery supply. “Thomas is available in with all these packages — groceries, steak, meals. I mentioned, ‘What are you telling this man that he introduced you all this meals?’ I used to be mortified.”

Thomas’ abdomen was happy, for the second. These motherless Mom’s Days by no means appear to finish. Kafaf recalled one among Lopez’s personal highschool teammates teasing about his mom being an addict.

“I pulled the child apart,” Kafaf mentioned. “http://ift.tt/2DzDu9V do not know who you suppose you might be. In my eyes, you are a chunk of shit. I do not ever need to hear it once more.”http://ift.tt/1OPItWM;

Kafaf is not significantly non secular. However like everybody round Lopez, he does appear to have that gene concerning drowning victims.

“I make good coin at my job,” he mentioned. “For instance I begin charging these youngsters $150 an hour for a session. So now I get some wealthy child with some wealthy mother and father who’re nutty …

“Then I do not get a Thomas Lopez. I do not get, on my final dying day, closing my eyes saying I made a distinction on this planet.”

That is why Thomas Lopez’s story is everybody’s enterprise. We have to know one of many fundamentals of frequent human decency.

“He loves his mom dearly,” Kafaf mentioned.

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