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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years

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Where Your Heart Will Fly on Wings - 1/2

Part One: A Ship, A Map, and A Secret

A Neverland arc (season 3A) rewrite where the gang doesn't meet Captain Hook until they get to Neverland to rescue Henry. Most of the end of s2 ("Second Star to the Right..." "... and Straight on' Till Morning," the last two episodes of the season) are the same: Greg and Tamara kidnap Henry. With Killian not present, I imagine that David succeeds in wrestling a bean away from Greg. They go to Rumple for help, and though he refused before, Blue's potion worked in giving Belle her memories back and he changes his mind. Somewhere in his shop, there is a ship in a bottle, and he removes this ship, docks it in the harbor, and leads Emma, Regina, Mary Margaret, and David through a portal that takes them to the waters surrounding Pan's island.

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Special thanks to @shireness-says my forever beta who only makes my life (and my stories) better, and all the ladies on discord who answered all the little questions I struggled with while writing this. Thanks, ladies. ( @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @stahlop ) Written for @neverlandnewyear. Some other interested pals: @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot @carpedzem @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @regi-writes-stuff @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @winterbaby89

The ship touches down on the waters, the portal disappearing from around them — but what they find is no better. Fat, cold rain drops pelt them from above, and below them, the waves begin to toss the dilapidated ship in every direction.

“Great job, Gold!” Regina yells, wrapping one of the ropes around her wrist. “You landed us right in the middle of a storm!”

“Believe it or not, dearie, my powers do not include the ability to control the weather, and certainly not in this realm!”

"We don't have time for this!" David chimes in, helping Mary Margaret keep her footing on the quickly-dampening deck. "If we're even going to make it onto the island, we have to get through this storm together!"

"And how do you expect we do that?" Regina chides. "This ship is barely more than a pile of old boards, it's not going to survive this storm."

"Then maybe we should work together to try to make it through this!" Mary Margaret yells.

"What do you expect us to do?”

"Well, we can start by trusting each other!"

Regina scoffs. "You think trust is going to get us through this storm? Is your trust going to keep us from taking on water?"

"No," Emma mumbles, looking down to her feet, and the water that she finds there makes her realize just how much trouble they're in.

And that's when something rams into the side of the ship. And again. And again.

"What the hell was that?"

"Sharks?"

"Afraid not," Rumple mumbles, trying to plant his feet on the slippery deck to keep control of the helm.

Regina looks over the railing, conjuring a fireball in her hand. "Mermaids."

"Mermaids?" Emma repeats. "They're real, too?"

"Does that really surprise you anymore?" Regina asks.

"We have to do something!" Mary Margaret yells over the wind.

"I am not being capsized by a fish!" David sloshes across the deck to a small cannon, which he loads a length of chain into before firing it into the water.

Mary Margaret picks a large net up off the helm, tossing half of it to Emma. “Help me get this into the water!”

“What are you going to do, catch one of them?” Regina tosses a fireball towards the surface of the water — which, surprisingly, works, and a mermaids around them back off the ship.

“Yes!" Mary Margaret stops for a moment to glance at Regina before tossing the net into the waves. "And ask her to help us.”

“Mermaids aren’t going to help you, dearies!”

“Obviously you’re also not going to help us, either!” Regina crosses the deck and throws out another fireball, clearing the starboard side just as she did the port. “There.” She wipes her hands on her soaked slacks and smiles at the fact that the storm also seems to have left with the mermaids. “They’re gone.”

“Not all of them!” Mary Margaret says, grunting as she and Emma struggle to pull their fishing net back onto the deck. “What about this one?”

With a flick of Regina's hand, the creature is out of their net and sprawled on the boards of the deck, her hands bound in front of her and her shining tail flopping into the inches of water that have settled onto the boards of the deck.

But her presence on the deck only causes an argument to break out between them, each offering their own way to deal with her — to ask for help, to kill her, to let her go. With every question they ask her, she offers them a vague but threatening answer, and the storm that Regina thought was over slowly begins to reform around them. Even after Regina turns her to wood with a whoosh of her magic, they continue to argue amongst themselves, the storm surging around them — all except Emma, who realizes the mermaid’s plan was to set them against each other to be destroyed by the storm. With no other option, she tries to get their attention, screaming across the small ship towards them, but nothing works — and she dives into the sea.

Quickly followed by a piece of metal rigging, pulled off by the winds into the water behind her and making hard contact with her head, immediately knocking her unconscious.

Without a second thought, David moves to dive in behind her, but Mary Margaret’s hand tight around his arm stops him. “No! You could get pulled under, too!”

“Not to worry!” A voice cuts through the rushing wind and water, another ship appearing out of the darkness of the storm. Within moments, it is close enough for the man to follow Emma into the water, a rope tied around his waist.

For a few long, terrifying moments, nothing happens. The storm still surging around them makes it impossible for them to see into the water, and they can only hope that the mysterious man can save her before it's too late.

After what feels like forever, a head breaks the surface of the water, Emma's bright hair a strong contrast to the dark waves, and the other man follows.

"Pull me up, Scarlett!" he calls, facing away from their small ship, and the man just visible on the deck of the nearby ship does as asked, pulling the man with Emma in tow. David wants to oppose, beg the man to bring Emma back to their ship, but just the feeling of Mary Margaret's hand on his arm keeps his mouth closed.

"Can you get us over there?" Mary Margaret asks, turning towards Rumplestiltskin. He rolls his eyes, but twirls his hand in front of him anyway, taking them all onto the other ship's deck in a wisp of smoke.

"Is she okay?" David asks as soon as he finds his footing, kneeling beside where Emma is laying on the deck — just as she spits out a mouthful of seawater and rolls onto her side. Mary Margaret drops to her knees on the deck beside her daughter, wrapping her arms around Emma's shoulders.

"Perhaps we should give the lass a moment? A bit of space?" the man who rescued her says, leaning against the bannister behind him, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Oh, come on !" Regina cuts him off, raising her hand towards the wave, moving ever-closer to their ship. "We don't have time for all this."

"Alas, she's right. I'm afraid we'll have to save the pleasantries until after the dashing rescue," he says, striding to what can only be his rightful place behind the helm and leading them quickly away from the waves, away from the storm. David helps Emma to her feet and they all watch as their old ship crumbles beneath the waves, after which the storm around them seems to disappear at an alarming rate; within mere minutes, the sun shines down from a cloudless sky and the soft wind blows lightly on the sails.

The man locks the helm into place and holds his hand out in a welcoming gesture. "This seems a much more appropriate time for introductions. Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger. "

"Okay,” David says, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who are you?"

"Captain Jones," he says, mimicking David's position -- which only draws attention to his left arm, which is blunted just shy of the elbow, replaced with a shining, metal hook. "But most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker—"

Rumple laughs, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You've really owned up to your ailment, haven't you, Captain Hook ?" he says, spitting the last two words between his teeth.

The man turns around, noticing Rumple standing behind him for the first time. "Oh, now that's just my bloody luck, innit?" He pushes his dark, wet bangs off his forehead with his wrist and lets out a small laugh. "All I was expecting was a few damsels in distress," he says, turning towards Emma for a moment and waggling his eyebrows at her before returning his attention to Gold. "Yet it appears I've caught myself a crocodile."

"Like, Captain Hook Captain Hook? Waxed mustache and perm and Peter Pan?"

"Well, love, I must admit I'm uncertain about the first two, but I'm glad to hear that you know who we're going up against."

"Up against? I just want to save my son."

"Why do you think they brought him here, dearies?" Rumple asks, flourishing his hands to conjure a whisp of purple smoke, revealing a new outfit of dark pants and a black, reptilian-scaled vest. "Pan is the one behind it all, I have no doubts about that. And he is a far more powerful foe than any of you are able to go up against."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Regina bites back, but Rumple is gone in another wisp of smoke before the question even leaves her lips.

"It appears that even after all these years, he is still as helpful as he's always been," Hook says, his jaw obviously tight with tension.

Emma's head is spinning. She's spent months trying to wrap her head around everything about Storybrooke and her life, around the idea of true love and fairy tales and everyone's stories intertwining — but this, running into handsome, one-handed pirates in Neverland that have a history with Gold, goes beyond all else.

"Wait, you know Mr. Gold?" Mary Margaret asks, voicing the question they all seem to be thinking.

"Aye, " he says, wrapping his hook around one of the spokes of the helm, where his attention is also focused. "though he was not known by that name. Before he became the Dark One as well, if the rumors are to be true."

For once, Regina seems interested in what he has to say." But he's been the Dark one for —"

"Lifetimes, aye," he says, cutting her off, but turning his eyes down to where she is standing on the lower deck.

No one knows how to respond to him, so the deck stays silent. For the first time, Emma looks around, taking in the small crew that stands around them. There are five that she can see, not including the captain: another tall, dark-haired man standing against the railing, arms crossed over his chest; a stout man with a red beard and an even redder hat; a fierce-looking woman with a mess of dark hair piled high on the top of her head, her dark orange tunic and black pants having seen better days; and two dark, brooding young men, no more than twenty, on the far end of the deck.

"What brings you all to Neverland?" the woman asks. Emma is not surprised that she is the one who tries to make conversation, though she vaguely remembers something about women being bad luck on ships.

"They took my son," Emma and Regina say simultaneously, and none of the ship's crew are able to keep their immediate reactions off their face.

The dark haired man leaning against the railing behind David barks out a laugh, but when Regina turns her glare in his direction, he snaps his mouth shut.

"What could Pan want with your son?" Hook asks.

"Does it matter?" Emma spits back. "We need to get him back."

Hook holds up his hands in a gesture of reluctant surrender. "Of course, of course, you're right." He turns to the man still leaning against the railing, who pushes off to his feet when he sees the look on the captain's face. "Prepare for a return to open waters, I would like to dock at Pirate's Cove before dinner time, Mister Scarlett."

Emma expects a salute, given the rest of the captain's countenance, but the man — Scarlett — just nods and walks away.

"Dinner?" Regina asks, her voice dripping with anger. "What part of ' we don't have time for this' don't you understand, pirate?" she spits.

"Can I ask you how many times you've visited this island, your Majesty?" he asks, the same fire in his voice.

She's taken aback for a moment, but answers nonetheless: "Never."

"That's what I thought. I, however, have been here for longer than any of you can even imagine, which gives me the kind of knowledge you could use on this type of quest. Are you really going to turn that down?"

To this, Regina has no response.

"Now, the beaches at Pirate's Cove will prove much more useful to your mission here, and by sailing around the island, it will rid you of the necessity of walking either through or around the Dark Jungle, which I can assure you is something you do not want to do. So, yes, we are going to chance the few hours it will take to sail around the island to hopefully cut days off of what it would have taken you on foot, and then we will be closer to Pan's camp and it will hopefully prove easier to find your boy."

This time, it's David who is angered by his response: " We ? What do you mean 'we'?"

Captain Hook practically rolls his eyes at this, which almost pulls a laugh out of Emma. “Do you expect to navigate the island yourselves?"

Emma intervenes, trying to calm the tension while also ensuring they stay focused on rescuing Henry: "He's right, David, we could use his assistance."

He winks at Emma. "I had a feeling I was going to like you."

Though she knows she should be resting, bunking with Regina, David, and Mary Margaret belowdecks, Emma instead finds herself drawn to the crew of the Jolly Roger , and spends the next few hours chatting quietly with them as the ship makes its way across the surprisingly quiet waters surrounding Neverland.

Especially the woman — Tiger Lily, Emma learns. Something about her keeps Emma interested in their whispered conversation, and it does not take her long to learn that, like her own, the woman's background is full of sadness and sacrifice. She tells Emma how she sacrificed herself to try to stop someone from turning evil and spending the rest of her magic to get to this island after exiling herself; tells her about being found by Pan and working for him in return, only to learn how evil and twisted his ways are, stealing boys from their families and never allowing them to leave. (" And there's something deeper and darker behind it all, something that he only mutters about with his second in command, a Dark Magic that keeps the island alive — I believe with the sacrifice of the boys who decide they want to leave." ) And Captain Hook, saving her as she tried to escape Pan, though she knew it was impossible — or, well, improbable.

"And I've been in his service ever since. He was working with Pan for a while, too, and able to leave this realm. He asked every time we docked somewhere if I wanted to leave, to live a better life, but I've enjoyed the time I've spent with him as my captain. I've never known a better man."

"Oh, is that so, Lily?" the very man appears behind them, a smile covering his dark features — except his eyes, Emma realizes. His eyes are the brightest blue she has ever seen, the same color as the soft waves moving in the sunlight.

"Now, come on, Captain," she laughs, and the way she sets her hand on the captain's arm sends an unwanted shiver down Emma's back. "You and I both know you're nothing if not a man of honor."

"Yes, but you're not supposed to divulge that knowledge to our new guests just yet."

"And why not?" Emma asks, knowing that her crossing her arms over her chest is a defense mechanism, but that only makes her pull them closer to her.

He wags his eyebrows across his forehead, then winks at her once more. "Can't go around telling everyone that Captain Hook is a big softie. I have a reputation to uphold."

Emma rolls her eyes and walks away, if only to save herself from any more unwanted shivers or repressed feelings.

Their mission is to save Henry. Henry comes first and everything else has to wait.

"Well, what are we going to do once we're ashore?" David asks, hunched over the Neverland map spread across the desk in the Captain's cabin.

"Pan's camp is only a short distance from the Cove, remember?" Mary Margaret adds, the focused planner and adventurer that Emma has only seen glimpses of. "We can sneak up on him and—"

"Nope," Hook says from where he has planted himself in the corner, one boot crossed over the other and his arms crossed over his chest. "There's no way to sneak up on Pan."

Regina's eye roll is practically audible. "You keep saying that but offering no helpful advice."

"And you keep saying that but not actually listening to what I have to say."

"Hook is the one with the knowledge of the island, Regina," Emma reminds her.

"And I'm the one with the knowledge of magic, maybe we should just give that a try!"

"What are you suggesting?" Mary Margaret scoffs. " Poof ing yourself into the middle of a camp on a magic island you've never visited before?"

"What do you suggest, Hook?" David asks, if only to keep Mary Margaret and Regina from fighting. It's obvious that the last thing he wants to do is take advice from a pirate, but even David realizes that they are left with very few other options.

"There is no way to plan what is going to happen once we reach those shores. Everything we do, everywhere we go, Pan will know about it and will always be steps ahead of us."

"How have you spent all this time in this realm and not learned even a few tricks that could help us?"

"Most of my years here have been spent on this ship, provided with rations by the very demon himself. Before that, he and I had an agreement that made us more comrades than foes, and all the time I spent on the island was for his own doing."

"Oh, that's helpful," Regina mutters, leaving the cabin without another word.

"So, let me see if I understand this," Emma asks, knowing that neither David nor Mary Margaret will be able to be civil about this. "Your plan… is to not have a plan at all?"

Hook nods. "There is no other option in Neverland. It's Pan's game there, and he makes all the rules. Best we can do is be ready for whatever he throws at us."

"I don't like this," Mary Margaret mumbles, and David wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to press a kiss against the top of her head.

"It's what we have to do to get Henry back, and that's all that matters," he says, a princely tone of finality in his voice, and the room falls silent.

"Can I ask you something, love?" Hook asks, his eyes leaving the horizon for just a moment to look at her (again, though she has only noticed a few of them) where she is sitting against the railing on the starboard side of the ship.

"I'm not your love," she bites, looking up from one of Hook's maps that she's borrowed from his quarters.

"I've had my share of run-ins with the Crocodile, and I've even crossed paths with the Evil Queen once or twice. The other two, that's Snow White, the princess, right? And her husband?"

"And how do you know that?"

He pauses, trying to chose his words carefully. He knows that if he says the wrong thing, he'll lose the small amount of ground he's made with them trusting him. "I've been… through an agreement with Pan, I can leave these waters every once in a while, as long as I fulfill some of the things he asks of me."

"You work with him," she says, but her face fails to give away any of what is going through her head.

"In a way, aye. But I've been to the Enchanted Forest, and I know what happened to it. How is it that you got here?"

"Well, there was a curse."

"Aye."

"And I — I broke the curse."

" You broke the curse?"

"Yeah, I — I'm the Savior , apparently, because I — I'm their daughter."

"Snow White's?" He's not nearly taken aback enough. "And the Prince."

She nods. So does he. Somehow he is wrapping his head around all of this much easier than she did. Maybe once you're alive for a few lifetimes, things like this are a lot less surprising than they were for Emma.

"How is it that you and the Evil Queen share the same son?"

Emma can't help but laugh. Where does she even start? "No offense, Hook, but it's a very long story that we don't really have time for."

"Aye, that I can understand." He lifts his hand off the helm to scratch his beard before moving his hand behind his ear and to the base of his neck. "But do you — you know — live together?"

"No, no, it's more like… joint custody."

"Come again?"

Right. "Joint custody," she says again, even though the centuries-old pirate knows nothing about the ins and outs of child custody. "We, uh… share him, I guess. Take turns."

"And what about the boy's father? Is he a part of this taking turns ?"

His question turns her blood to ice. Neal. Where does she even begin? For a moment, she's angry — at Neal, at herself. "No." How dare he. How dare Hook to even ask about Neal, he has no right —

He has no idea. It was an innocent enough question, there's no way he knew the still-gaping wound that a question about Neal would inflame.

"He's — dead."

"Apologies, love, I didn't mean to stir up any unwanted emotions."

"Stop calling me that."

"I'm afraid it's more of a habit than anything."

She has no response to this and turns her attention back towards the map.

"Bloody hell," Hook mumbles, though Emma and Smee, his first mate, are the only ones close enough to hear him. At first, they don't see whatever the problem may be, but as the ship continues to approach the shore, Emma sees him leaning against one of the trees just on the other side of the shore.

Pan. Emma can sense it somehow — her motherly instincts, maybe, or something like that, but she can feel that the man on the shore is Peter Pan.

No. No, not man. Boy , with a pudgy teenaged face and dark hair that falls down to his eyebrows.

"That's him," Emma says. She means for it to be a question, but it does not come out that way.

"Aye." She turns to him just in time to watch the edge of his jaw tick as he grinds his back teeth together. "That's the demon Pan."

For a moment, Emma is unsure how she feels about all this. Hook's plan to take them around the island has already taken hours of their precious time, and all under the guise to keep them from Pan — only to have him waiting for them right where Hook brought them to shore. What if Hook had been playing with them the whole time? Giving Pan time to plan ahead while he wasted time sailing them all around the island?

But then she looks at him again, sees the rage obvious on his face, and she almost feels bad for questioning his motive even though she has every right to.

"Bested us again," he mutters, but then straightens his back and looks out over the ship. "Prepare for docking!"

Pan watches, unmoving, from the shore as Hook and his crew lead the Jolly Roger to the dock — and, still unmoving, as they come ashore. Finally, he speaks. "Thank you for bringing our special guests ashore, Captain," the boy leers. "Good to see you're still good for something."

"You know I can't pass up the opportunity to give assistance to a damsel in distress, nonetheless three. And Dave." There's a joking tone in his voice, but it's not present anywhere else in his body.

"Ah, yes," Pan says, pushing himself away from the tree. "Welcome, your highnesses. I hope you find Neverland as welcoming as you have spent all those years hoping your Enchanted Forest would be. And you, Regina, you and I have more in common than you may want to believe."

Regina rolls her eyes, conjuring a fireball in her left hand. "Oh, please," she spits. "Let's do this the easy way: give me my son back and I won't burn your whole island down."

Pan just laughs. "No, I’m afraid that's not going to happen. You're on my island now, and you're going to play by my rules."

"Do you think this is a game?"

"Oh, your majesty , that's exactly what this is. So, Emma, I'm going to give you a map." He pulls a folded piece of parchment out from under his tunic. "A map that will lead you straight to your son."

"If this is some kind of trap," she starts, taking a step towards him with her hand on the sword on her hip.

But Pan's soft laugh stops her. "I may not be the most well-behaved boy on the island, but I always keep my promises. The path to finding Henry is on this parchment."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

He chuckles again. "See, it's not about finding Henry. It's about how you find him. And, Emma," he says, placing his hand on her wrist as she reaches out to take the parchment. "You're the only one who can."

She takes it from him, then unfolds it — only to find it blank, save a pattern around the outside. "It's blank."

"You sound surprised," Regina bites, but no one pays attention to her. All eyes are on Pan.

"You'll only be able to read that map when you stop denying who you really are."

Emma looks down at the map once more. Everyone around her looks at it.

And when they look up, Pan is gone.

As they follow Hook's lead through the jungle, Emma's focus is on the map. She thinks of all she can: her background, everything she's learned since coming to Storybrooke. She even attempts to admit that she's the savior during a short break, but nothing works.

Regina, angry and impatient and nothing if not motivated, takes it from her, insisting on magic, despite the arguments from the rest of the group. It works — to a point, leading them not to Pan's camp, but to an ambush by a group of Lost Boys. It does not last long, the heroes quickly overpowering the boys, but David gets nicked with a Dreamshade-tipped arrow — a secret he tries to keep from the rest of the camp.

Hook sees it, though, the one in the group that really knows how deadly the poison can be, but he, too, keeps it to himself.

He leads them away from the ambush, towards a cliff that looks out over most of the island. From there, he insists, they can plan a route through the jungle and maybe even scout out Pan's camp. But by the time they get there, the sun has set, and all they can see is shadow. "Now that you've seen what Pan can do in just a few short hours, we need our strength. I suggest we make camp."

Regina, unsurprisingly, is against his idea. "You want to sleep while my son is out there suffering?"

"If you want to live long enough to save the boy, yes," he argues, and no one has a comeback for this. Regina is first to walk away, huffing knowing that Hook is right. Hook is second, closely followed by David, who barks an order about finding firewood, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret looking out over the jungle.

They are silent for a moment, Emma obviously worrying about something, but Mary Margaret has learned not to push. And after a few moments, Emma does say what's on her mind:

"Regina's right, Henry's out there somewhere."

But Mary Margaret is ready with her positive comeback. "And Hook is right. We have to survive if we're going to get him."

"I know. I just hope we're not too late."

Mary Margaret leaves her there, knowing that sometimes, her daughter just needs her space to think. She stands there as the others build their camp, her attention turned once more towards the blank parchment — the map , removed from her pocket.

Though he does not mean to, Hook startles her with his approach. "I opted for first watch so you and the others could get your rest."

Emma just shakes her head, starting towards the campfire, needing the monotony of the crackling fire to slow her mind down. "There's no way I can sleep here without solving this map."

"Then it appears you and I will be not sleeping together, love," he jokes, waggling his eyebrows at her with a smirk on his face.

Emma just rolls her eyes. "Listen, Hook. I am here to save my son. The very last thing I'm going to do is get distracted."

His smirk is gone, not even a trace of a smile left on his features. "Of course, Swan. I meant no insult."

They sit in relative silence, the rest of them falling asleep quickly — or, at least, staying quiet. The sounds of the Jungle seem to grow louder in the darkness, almost deafening. But Emma's attention is still on the map.

"Nothing I can think of is working," she groans, dropping the map to the ground beneath her feet.

"None of those are what Pan is looking for. What have you been avoiding? What have you been hiding from, love?"

She is already on edge, and his endearment only makes her angrier. "I am not your love, Hook. Why are you helping me, anyway?"

He's been wondering the same, so he's quick to answer. "I've been searching for a glimmer of hope when it comes to defeating this demon for as long as I can remember. If finding your lad and ruining his plans takes his power from him, then helping you is the very least I can do."

"But why? What did Pan ever do to you?"

He's silent for a moment, trying to decide how much he wants to divulge to her, and he maks a quick decision. "It wasn't me personally," he lies. "But it's the principle of the thing. He preys on boys who think he's taking them to a better life, but all he's doing is taking them from their families. Growing up alone is the worst thing that could happen to a boy, and Pan thrives on separating families."

"Sounds like something you know a lot about." She doesn't mean to be so forward, but once it's out, there's No taking it back.

"Pardon?"

"Only someone who grew up alone would talk like that."

Now it's his turn to get defensive. "And how would you know that? You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. What can a princess know about growing up alone?"

She knows that there is no way for him to know otherwise, to know the truth about her childhood, but his assumptions about her still make her a little angry. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she grits, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. "My parents sent me through a portal when I was only a few hours old. I grew up alone , spent my whole life alone . I was an orphan, too, Hook. Or, at least, I grew up believing I was."

"I'm — I'm sorry, Swan, I shouldn't have assumed—"

"No, you shouldn't have."

"You're right though, love. I, too, spent much of my life alone. My mum was sick and passed when I was a boy, and my father took my brother and I on a ship to a far-off land. Until one day, we woke up and he was gone. He left us there to settle a debt and we never saw him again."

Silence settles between them for a moment, and then he smiles. "It seems you and I have quite a lot in common, then, love," he chides, but Emma barely hears him. She's too distracted by the parchment in her hand, which has revealed a map at some point in their conversation.

"Hook—" she tries, but he cuts her off.

"Apologies, I know, you're not my love ."

"No, Hook, that's not it."

Finally he looks at her, trying to find what she is talking about on her face, following her eyes down to the parchment in her hands. But there is something else that has changed, too, something about her . He can't quite put his finger on it, but he thinks he maybe sees a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

#csnlny #captain swan #neverland new year #my writing #cs fics #ouat #neverland rewrite #really just a bunch of headcanons in one little story

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stenbrozier · 4 years

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Clingy (Adult!Stanley Uris x Reader)

Plot: The Urises have always been known as the “snuggly couple” among their friends, especially as they got older. Stanley and (Y/N) are going to meet the Losers for lunch, and Stanley wants nothing more then to hold his wife and show her off the whole time.

Warnings: mentions of trying to have a kid, canon!Reddie

A/N: I was dropping anons about how lovely Stanley Uris was and how cuddly he was and now I’m here....writing a story about this dumb bitch with curly hair

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Stanley moans slightly in his sleep, turning over in your arms to lay his head against your chest, his arms securing tight around your waist. He left a soft kiss right underneath the left side of your collarbone and smiled against it. You brought your hands up to run through his hair, the soft curls tickling your neck as you messed with them.

Your legs were tangled together between the grey sheets, one of your legs slotted in between his with the other slung over his hip. The sunlight from your bedroom window peeled through the blinds, making lines of light and dark drape over the big, dark red comforter that you and your husband were snuggled underneath. His hands tapped the small of your back, his nails rubbing lightly up and down before squeezing your ass and causing you to jump. He looked up at you, kissing along your jaw as he worked his way up to put his forehead against yours, and you giggled as he pressed little kisses to your nose.

“Baby, we should get ready,” you whispered softly, peeking at the alarm clock next to your bed. “We need to meet them for our weekly lunch date in a couple of hours.” Stanley groaned, squeezing you tight for a few seconds before pulling away and stretching out his arms and his legs. You sat up first, scooting to the edge of the bed to get ready to get up and get dressed. Your foot felt something soft underneath you, and you looked down to see you and Stan’s pitbull, Blue, sitting curled up in on herself. Stanley got off of the other side of the bed, coming around to pick up Blue and snuggle her, the 60 pound dog wagging its tail as she enjoyed the attention she was being given so early in the morning.

“Move, bub,” you chuckled, as he held Blue closer to his chest and leant down and gave you a kiss. “Can you go make some coffee?” You put on your best puppy dog eyes and he complied, heading out your bedroom door with the dog still wrapped in his arm. You grabbed clothes out of your drawers, pulling out a pair of shorts and one of Stanley’s shirts. You threw them on, brushing your hair down and going into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. After you did that, you went down the stairs and heard Stan laughing.

“Fuck off, Rich,” he said midlaugh, a huge smile on his face as he saw you standing in the doorway. “I-I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at 1.” He hung up the phone and sat it on the counter, grabbing the mugs off of it and dragging you down to the kitchen table. He sat down first, grabbing your waist loosely and dragging you into his lap. You smiled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving little kisses as you took a sip of your coffee.

“Clingy, clingy,” you teased as he laughed, his hands fisting the shirt you wore.

“This is mine,” he mentioned matter-of-factly. You nodded, taking another sip of your coffee and setting the mug down before standing up and walking to give Blue her breakfast.

“Who’s house are we having lunch at this week,” you asked your husband, getting down on your knees to pull out the bag of dog food from underneath the counter. You poured some in her bowl, kissing her forehead when she ran over to eat it. When you put it back, you stood up only to have arms get wrapped around your waist.

“I believe we’re going to Ben and Bev’s,” he whispered, taking in a deep breath as he rubbed your stomach with his thumbs. “I guess I have to go start to get ready.” Stanley kiss your neck, pulling back and walking away, up the steps and into the bedroom. You sat at the table and finished up your coffee, heating the shower turning on. You showered at night and he showered in the morning, so there was never any conflict in the mornings when you both had work.

You washed your coffee mug out in the sink, going back up into your bedroom to grab your phone and the book you were reading. When you walked in, Stan was clad in a pair of jeans, drying his hair with the towel. He turned around and smiled at you when you made a big show of checking him out. You went to your bedside table and grabbed your things, standing on your tippy toes and kissing him on the cheek. You waited for him to finish getting ready, leaning against the doorframe and going through your texts. Stanley’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he walked with you down the steps. You both sat on the couch, and you leaned against him, taking your book and reading to him until it was time to go visit the Losers

———————

Ben swung the door open, engulfing you in a hug as Stanley laughed lightly, placing a hand on the small of your back to squeeze by you. You and Ben had been best friends while growing up, and it was no secret that you gravitated to him. Everyone thought you and him were going to end up together, and the group was pleasantly surprised when you and Stan announced that you guys were dating in your senior year. Ben kissed your forehead and pulled away, leading you inside and shutting the door.

“How’s the whole ‘trying to get pregnant thing’ going?” Ben asked in a hushed voice. You shrugged your shoulders, following him into his dining room.

“Nothing yet, but we’re hoping that I miss my period,” you replied back, giving him a soft smile as he kissed your forehead again.

“Holy shit!! Two Urises,” Richie yelled, breaking away from Stan to come and wrap you up in a tight hug.

He’d been away for the past few months on tour, so he hadn’t been able to come to try weekly luncheons. You pulled away from him, patting his chest and going to say ‘hi’ to all of your either childhood friends and their spouses. Bev wrapped you up in her arms, whispering in your ear the same question Ben had asked you. You shook your head as you pulled away, going back to where your husband was now sitting at the table. Stan immediately grabbed your hand, peppering it with kisses and you smirked.

“God, I was gone for two minutes,” you teased, causing his cheeks to dust a raspberry pink. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, can you?” You noticed that you had caught the attention of Bill, who smiled at the two of you smiling at each other and looking deep into the other’s eyes.

“C-can you guys not be cute for one minute?” he asked with a fake disgusted look on his face. “You’re even wearing his c-college tee.”

Now it was your turn to blush red, eyes casting down to yours and Stan’s intertwined hands. The rest of the Losers laughed at your embarrassment before Eddie finally spoke up.

“They’re more clingy than they were in high school,” he mentions, twisting his nose up in disgust. You throw him the middle finger.

“At least I’ve been in a loving relationship for twenty years and wasn’t afraid to admit feelings.” Richie laughs at this, looking over at Eddie and nudging his side before kissing his cheek.

You leaned over and kissed your husband’s cheek, the attention shifting from you both to how Mike’s month long stint in Florida had been. Stanley removed his hand from yours, wrapping that arm around your shoulder and taking his other hand to softly stroke the hand which he had let go of. You looked over at him, snuggling into his chest. Maybe you guys were too clingy, but you’d rather have him touch you constantly than not at all.

#stanley uris smut #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris #stanley uris headcanons #bill denbrough x reader #richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

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comradelup · 4 years

Text

clouds and operas

Kravitz is waiting for him when he gets there. He smiles at Taako as he approaches and looks his outfit up and down.

“You certainly know how to dress up,” he says, then meets Taako’s face again. “I feel underdressed.”

“Because you wear suits all the time. You gotta learn to dress down.”

ao3

An opera. What a nerd. Who knew the grim reaper was such a nerd? Well, Taako knows now. And now he’s on a date with him. His second, to be specific.

After he heard that conductor comment he demanded to know more about it, since it was surprising to hear Mr. Work Accent was apparently so classy. Kravitz told Taako to dress formally for it, so he did.

His suit has a tailcoat jacket and it matches his pants. Powder blue and patterned with little white clouds. To drive it home, he’s wearing a yellow bow tie to represent the sun. It would make that shitty train wizard so jealous and is fancy as all hell. His hair… he doesn’t really know what to do with it. He cut it after, y’know, Glamour Springs, so it’s shorter now. It’s had time to grow back, no doubt, but it still isn’t at Taako Brand Length™. He pulls it into a low but tight ponytail at the base of his skull. The tail end of it barely reaches the bottom of his neck, but it’s the most “formal” hairstyle he knows. Plus it’s not like he can’t pull it off.

Kravitz is waiting for him when he gets there. He’s dressed in a fancy black suit like he always is, but it’s appropriate for this setting. He smiles at Taako as he approaches and looks his outfit up and down.

“You certainly know how to dress up,” he says, then meets Taako’s face again. “I feel underdressed.”

“Because you wear suits all the time. You gotta learn to dress down,” Taako says, using his umbrella as a cane as he starts up the stairs with Kravitz at his side. (Apparently the skeleton he lifted it off of had taste, because the umbrella’s fabric changes at the user’s will. Tonight it’s the same blue shade as his suit.) They join a steady flow of others into the building which is good, they aren’t late.

Kravitz has the tickets and hands them to the attendant, who gives Taako’s suit an impressed look. Taako doesn’t notice though, because—

“Why are you wearing gloves?” he asks Kravitz as they walk into the building. It’s fancy and has crystal chandeliers, but he’s giving Kravitz his attention.

“Oh!” Kravitz says as if just noticing them. It’s fair, Taako randomly brought it up. “I thought it’d be a little fancier? And uh,” He looks nervous as he says, “last time you said my hands were cold.”

Taako laughs and Kravitz looks more nervous. “That’s fair! That’s fair, I’ll give you that, Bones.”

Now Kravitz chuckles. “Bones?”

“Yeah, you’re a skelling-ton. You’re all bones under there.” Taako gestures to Kravitz with his free hand.

“So are you,” Kravitz says.

“Yeah but I’m not the grim reaper,” Taako says. They reach a grand staircase and start ascending.

“Fair enough.”

On their way up Taako gets a good look at the building. Dark green carpets and walls with gold accents, and hanging golden chandeliers that twinkle. It’s beautiful.

Kravitz says, “I’ve always loved this hall. It’s gorgeous.”

“Always?”

“Oh I’ve been around way longer than this place,” Kravitz says.

“Right, you’re immortal, aren’t you?”

“Kind of. After I died The Raven Queen let my soul live on as a bounty hunter under her rule.”

“So… immortal?” Taako asks, earning a small laugh from Kravitz.

“Guess so.”

They get into the actual concert hall and get to their seats. The seats are comfortable and pretty close to the stage, which is nice. Taako has no idea what operas are like though, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

Something must have shown on his face, because Kravitz asks, “Have you ever been to an opera before?”

“Nope,” Taako admits, trying to sound nonchalant. Part of him worries that he’ll look like an idiot here.

Instead of a joke or a look, Kravitz says, “Oh, then you’re in for a treat, this show is amazing.” He’s smiling like he’s excited. Huh.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Bones,” Taako says.

“…Alright.” Kravitz leans back into his seat, giving Taako a look. A daring and playful look. A look that says, go ahead and judge.

Taako feels his face darken, just a bit, and tries to match it with a look of his own. He says, “Alright.”

The show starts and Kravitz is right: it’s amazing. He’s not surprised, a place this pretty can’t pump out bad performance. Although Taako can barely make out what’s being said. Halfway through the show, he feels a hand grab his own and looks down to see Kravitz’s gloved hand holding his. The fabric is black, and it dampens the coolness of his skin. Not completely, Taako can still feel a lack of warmth, but it’s nice. He finds himself smiling at brown skin against black velvet before looking back up to the stage.

If he thought he couldn’t keep up before, Kravtiz laying his head on Taako’s shoulder made his brain blue-screen. Almost immediately he leans his head on Kravitz’s in return, and the show suddenly becomes even more enjoyable. As the big finale approaches, he can feel Kravitz squeezing his hand in anticipation and Taako squeezes back. They have death grips on each other’s hands until the show ends and they’re on their feet applauding with the rest of the audience.

Kravitz is practically floating with giddiness after they leave. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands, which Taako likes most of all. They’re walking… somewhere, Taako isn’t sure. He just wants to stretch his legs after sitting still for so long. Getting to listen to Kravitz talk about the show is a bonus.

“I know you said this is your first one so I don’t know what your expectations were, but that was phenomenal, even by my opera standards. And I’m not saying that to brag— I’ve been around long enough to see months worth of shows.” Kravitz sighs, shaking his head a little. “It really is a shame that that was your first show. Any other show you see will completely pale in comparison.”

“Well you better pick a good show next time then, Bones,” Taako says, and wow he didn’t mean for his voice to come out that soft. When he sees Kravitz’s slightly flustered expression, he ends up not regretting it.

“Next time?” Kravitz asks.

“Hell yeah next time,” Taako says. Duh, obviously. “That was fucking cool, I gotta see more.”

Kravitz just lights up. Who knew Death could look so lively? “Yeah, yeah I agree.” He brushes a dreadlock behind his ear. “I’ll look out for a show to top this one. Although I doubt there is one.”

“I trust you can surprise me,” Taako says, bumping his shoulder against Kravitz’s.

“I could say the same to you.” Kravitz bumps back. Then he stops and he turns to face Taako.

“What’s up?” he asks. Kravitz is looking away from him, at the ground or their intertwined hands.

“I just,” Kravitz looks up, into Taako’s eyes. “I’ve had a great time tonight. Thank you for joining me.”

Taako chuckles. “Course. I had fun too. Although,” he says, dragging out the word. For added dramatic effect, he taps a finger against his chin as he says, “this date could be even better if you ask me.”

Kravitz quirks an eyebrow, clear confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Taako says, then he closes the distance between them to kiss Kravitz. The hand not holding Kravitz’s goes to hold his shoulder. Kravitz instantly kisses back, his own free hand moving to Taako’s waist. It doesn’t last long though because Taako is soon breaking it, laughing a little as he moves away just slightly.

“What?” Kravitz asks.

“I… I forgot you were cold,” Taako admits. Instantly Kravitz looks super embarrassed and it makes Taako laugh.

Kravitz starts to stutter out an apology and Taako waves him off. He’s laughing with Kravitz, not at him, though he’s not sure if Kravitz can tell the difference.

“Wait, let me just…” Kravitz moves his hands off Taako to bring them to his face. Taako laughs again as Kravitz starts blowing into his hands to warm up his face. Kravitz starts laughing too, though it’s muffled by the hands over his mouth.

When they collect themselves Taako gently moves his hands away from his face. Holding both hands in both of his own, he says, “Let’s try this again,” and they do.

It’s much nicer. Taako could get used to this.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #taz fic #balance #taako #kravitz #taakitz #txt #writing #MY_BOYS.exe #i'd kill a man to be wearing a cloud suit at this very moment

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naireides · 4 years

Text

under the sheets (we’re safe here)

catradora featuring my inherent need to write my ships cuddling together and forgiving one another

rated G | wc: 1.7k

read it on ao3

For so long the end of the war has seemed like a pipe dream to the Rebellion. A never ending battle until She-Ra showed up, a glimmer of hope in these trying times, and managed to pull them towards the end.

And though they emerged victorious, it’s bittersweet at best.

It’s whiplash to go from fighting for their lives to just simply being able to just be, and it leaves many people lost and confused. The Horde did a number on Etherea, wreaking havoc across the planet. Cities and towns and even entire kingdoms were brought to their knees during the war. Families were torn apart and lives were ruined. Thousands dead, thousands missing and thousands more injured. Then, like the flick of a switch, it all came to an end. And many who survived don’t know what’s next.

Hell, Adora doesn’t even know what’s next. She feels like she doesn’t know anything anymore, not after being blindsided with new information at every turn.

But, if it’s one thing she does know, it’s that the war is over and she is tired.

The hard packed dirt floor of the tent isn’t made any less comfortable by the thin bedroll, but Adora still groans when her body collapses onto it. Her entire body aches down to her bones, and even though she knows that thanks to She-Ra’s powers she’s never really injured when she reverts back to her normal self, it still feels like she got run over by a tank.

She can’t remember the last time she had a proper rest. Maybe on the spaceship, but even then she had a million things to worry about. A hundred year old ship falling apart at the seams, Horde Prime’s clones trying to take them out, asteroids, fuel shortages… Catra.

Adora sits up, bracing her weight on her forearms, and she looks towards the tent flap. Catra stands there, fidgeting. Her tail swishes back and forth nervously and she scruffs her foot at the ground. She notices Adora looking over at her and flushes a dull red, ears going flat against the sides of her head.

Adora offers her a soft smile.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” she asks.

“I--” she fumbles, not knowing what to say.

Adora shifts and pats the space next to her before holding out her hand. “C’mere.”

Catra balks but then she takes it, allowing her to pull her into her space.

The bedroll is barely big enough for the two of them and she finds herself pressed against her: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. She can feel Catra’s tail flicking anxiously between them, brushing against her skin.

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a sleeping space together. It’s not the first or the second or even the twentieth. Adora grew up with Catra. When they were young they used to nap together all the time and then, as cadets, more often than not she’d wake up with Catra curled into a ball at her feet. It was nice, comforting.

Now Catra is tense next to her, her breaths coming quick and shallow.

Adora hesitates for just a brief moment before she reaches out beneath the covers and takes her hand, her thumb ghosting over her knuckles. She hears her breath catch.

“It’s over,” she murmurs into the still darkness of the tent. It’s twilight and the heavy tarp does a good job at keeping out the setting sun’s rays. Around them she can hear the sounds of the Rebellion-- the clink of weapons as they’re packed, whispers of conversation flowing past, the crackle of a firepit. It all speaks of hope, of a long awaited freedom. “It’s all over. We won.”

“Yeah,” sighs Catra, “We won.”

Her voice sounds off and when Adora lifts her head to get a better look at her, she turns her face away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Catra.”

She sighs and slides her hand out of hers, leaving it suddenly cold. “I just-- It feels like after everything that I’ve done, I shouldn’t get to be…” her voice trails off, soft and heartbreaking, and Adora can’t help but curl closer to her body.

“That you shouldn’t get to be happy?” she says, soft.

Catra flinches away. “Yeah.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” she says firmly, twisting her body until she’s halfway on top of her, forcing her to look at her face. “You should be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

Her eyes are glassy, emotion barely restrained behind them. “I was a Force Captain back in the Horde. I helped Horde Prime almost take over Etherea.” Her eyes screw shut, anguish painting every single one of her features, and it makes Adora’s heart ache. “I’ve hurt so many people, innocents, your friends… you.”

Ever so gently, Adora rests her palm against Catra’s face, her thumb stroking the sharp line of her cheekbone. She has freckles, tiny specks that stand out against her skin just like stars. And just like the stars, their beauty still manages to take Adora’s breath away. “I’ve forgiven you for that,” she tells her as she cups her cheek, “I’ve forgiven you for all of those things, Catra. You’re a good person. And I know it might be a while until you can forgive yourself but… you deserve to be happy.”

Her eyelids flutter open, eyelashes brushing against her fingertips. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness isn’t about what you deserve,” Adora tells her softly, “It’s about what you need.”

Catra watches her for a moment before licking her lips. “I need you,” she says, lowly. The admission hangs heavy in the air around them and she takes a minute to savour it.

For as long as she’s known Catra, she’s never once said that she’s needed anyone. She views vulnerability as a sign of weakness and while Adora knew that back then, back at the Horde, they had each other’s backs, Catra never once said that she needed her.

The words make something warm bloom deep inside her, feeling like bottled sunshine that just spilled all over the place.

“I need you too,” she says, leaning her head against hers so that their foreheads pressed together. “I’ve always needed you. You were my best friend. My person.”

“And you’re mine,” Catra murmurs, just before Adora leans all the way down and presses her lips against hers.

Kissing Catra always feels like getting hit with a stun gun, but in a good way. Unlike their first kiss which was messy and sloppy, filled with an intensity that could probably never be matched again-- CatrasavedherCatradidn’tgiveuponherCatralovedher-- this one was softer, calmer. A lazy slide of lips against each other that spoke of nothing but time between them and she can’t help but sigh in content.

It’s only the second time she’s kissing her and yet there’s a certain familiarity between them, an understanding that spans miles and lifetimes.

When she pulls back, her eyes are soft and half lidded and Adora can’t help but giggle, dropping a sloppy kiss to her cheek before rolling off of her. Catra follows of course, and they end chest to chest, limbs intertwined. If she listens closely, she can hear the soft purring sound coming from her chest accompanied by its vibrations. Her tail wraps around her ankle, easy and warm, grounding her to her.

It’s nice.

“What do we do now?” Catra asks after the silence begins to get too stifling.

Adora shifts and brushes her hair out of her face, laughing quietly when she huffs and swats at her hand. She hates to think about what happened to Catra on Horde Prime’s ship, but her hair… her hair was a nice look.

“What do you want to do?” she shoots back at her.

Catra rolls her eyes. “Can never give me a straight answer, can you?” she grumbles fondly.

“I just think it’s a valid question,” she says in return.”But if you really want an answer, then it’s rebuilding I guess.”

Catra is quiet for a long moment, long enough that she begins to think that she’s fallen asleep, and then, “Do you think I could help?”

“Of course you can help.”

“No I mean--” she turns so that she could really look at her, and then huffs. “The Horde is responsible for most of the destruction. I’m responsible for most of it. What if… what if destroying things is all I’m good at?”

Her voice wavers on the end of it a little bit, her insecurities peeking through, and Adora reaches for her hand. She interlaces their fingers, letting it rest between them.

“It is not,” she reassures her, “You can do so much more than that.”

“What if they don’t want me in their villages?”

“Then we’ll go to another village.”

“What if the other villages don’t trust me?”

“Catra.” She catches her gaze and holds it steady until the worry and guilt swirling around in her eyes settle. “You’re right, maybe things won’t go smoothly, maybe it might be terrible at it or maybe people won’t trust you. And we can spend all night going through hypotheticals and coming up with the worst case scenarios. But you’ve changed. You’ve helped us all. You’ve helped me when I needed it most, and I trust you. I believe in you.”

It gets a small sniff out of her and if Adora squints, she can just make out the redness of her cheeks in the dark.

Catra sighs. “Okay.”

“We have a long road ahead of us,” she murmurs, tucking her face into her neck and breathing her in. “There’s a lot of things that need to be done, things that need to be fixed. But for now we sleep.”

Catra just grunts and then, tentatively, she lays her arm across her waist, delicately at first and then, when Adora doesn’t say anything, she lets the full weight of it press into her, letting out an exhale.

“I love you,” she mumbles up towards the tent roof, her voice nothing but a whisper in the night.

Adora still hears it though and she can’t help the giddy flush that rises to her cheeks, the smile that threatens to split her face wide open.

Her lips brush against that spot on Catra’s neck, not quite kissing her but just resting them there, because she could. She can feel the way her pulse is racing beneath her skin. The hand that’s tangled in hers squeezes it tenderly.

“I love you too,” she says in return, and feels the way her body relaxes into hers.

The war is over today and tomorrow they will start to rebuild, but for now, Adora just holds on to Catra and finally, they both sleep.

#catradora #catradora fanfiction #my writing #nai did a thing #spop #i honestly don't think i've been this nervous about posting a fic in YEARS #but that's probably because this is the first new fandom i've written for in a while

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kindashysorry · 4 years

Text

Blackout

Daverine Words: 2.4k Warnings: Swearing, and poor information on constellations and Roman mythology @the-games-changing

___

“How long has it been now?” Katherine asked, taking a sip from her watermelon Slurpee as Davey pushed her on the swings. Davey checked his watch, squinting in the dark, the watch hands barely visible. “Uh, almost half an hour, I think.” Kath almost choked on her drink.

“The power’s been down almost how long?” Davey took a sip from his own Slurpee and pushed her again. “Is that an ‘it feels longer than that’, or an ‘it feels shorter than that’ holy shit?”

“A bit of both.”

The two of them had been at home when the power went out, interrupting their nightly routine, and when it didn’t come back on after a few minutes, Kath knew exactly what to do to make the blackout a little more fun. After a little convincing (and one big dose of puppy-dog eyes), Davey and Kath hopped on the back of Davey’s motorbike and drove off to the park with a small hill on it, a few streets away. Stopping by briefly to grab their Slurpees from Elmer, who had taken it as his third job to support himself and his sisters. “Y’know some guy came in here like two hours ago and threw up in the middle of the store then just walked out. Who does that!?” Elmer complained as he used the torch on his phone to light up the Slurpee machine where Kath and Davey were filling up their cups. Kath had slid him a ten-dollar note, clicking her tongue in sympathy. “People are just like that sometimes. Sorry you had to deal with that, bud.” Elmer shrugged,

“Pays the bills, it’s nothing I can’t deal with.” Katherine and Davey had left after exchanging goodbye’s with Elmer and crossed the road to the park, where they were now sat.

Davey had wandered over to a semi-flat piece of ground and lay down on his back as Kath continued to swing, lost in her own thoughts. Davey called out to her, and she looked up to see him waving her over. She jumped off the swing and made her way over to him, getting comfortable on the grass next to him. She rested her head on Davey’s chest as they looked up at the night sky, the stars looked so much brighter without the glow from the streetlamps, the burning pinpoints of light like small diamond dust twinkling down on them. “You like stars, right?” Davey asked, playing with Katherine’s hair. She shrugged with a smile and a small incline of her head. “My father made me take an astronomy class when I was younger, I thought I’d hate it but,” she shrugged. “I guess I was wrong. I‘ve always really liked stars since then.” She sighed, trying to get more comfortable in the grass, looking into the sky “I mean, they’re so big and have so much going on up close, but all we see are pretty lights a million light-years away. We only get to see the tiniest snippet of them, y’know? So many people look up and love the stars, they think of them as warm balls of comfort that could do no wrong. But the stars can be cold and cruel, a side people don’t often see. They can be cold, and cruel, and no matter how much you love them, the stars never love you back.” Kath sighed again and Davey grabbed her hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it with his hand. She looked over and gave him a small smile, though her eyes betrayed her slight embarrassment at her rambling. He squeezed her hand comfortingly and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. They watched the night sky move slowly by them, an occasional wispy cloud drifting in front of their vision, to which Davey would try and find animals or objects, which Kath could never decipher. The two of them stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms for a few more minutes, Katherine tracing small patterns on Davey’s side as Davey braided the small section of her hair he was playing with earlier. Kath took a deep breath in and stretched, heaving herself to her feet and snatching her empty cup off the ground. “Have you finished yours?” Davey nodded and placed his cup in her outstretched hand. She gave him a small smile and motioned to the bin at the bottom of the hill. “I’ll be right back.” She said and began to walk down the hill. Davey watched her leave, smiling to himself. Despite the cold night air, he felt warm. A nice warm, that made him feel nice and cosy, one that started in his chest and spread through his body with each beat of his heart and every moment he spent with her. With Kath, he felt safe, he felt grounded. He felt safe and grounded, and warm. Davey lay back in the grass, closing his eyes, smiling softly as he let the warmth wash over him.

___

“Okay, you’re for sure making these up now!” Katherine laughed into Davey’s shoulder.

“I’m not! That’s a real constellation! Look,” she re-traced the pattern of stars, connecting each glimmering dot to the next with her finger. “That one there is Cygnus, ‘cause it looks like a swan, see?” Davey didn’t see, but nodded along, engaged anyway. “You can find it easier if you look for the really bright star at the end of its tail, called Deneb.” That, Davey could see. “Then follow it up to the head, Albireo, which is actually a double star but the name is used specifically for the brighter one, and then you can see the two wings below it.” He was lost again. Davey squinted into the sky, trying to follow Kath’s finger, but to no avail, he sighed. “I’m fairly certain I know where the Big Dipper is, but that’s it.” He scanned the sky, before reaching up and tracing the shape in the sky. Katherine smiled. “Close,” she said. “But you’re off by one.” She reached up and gently took hold of Davey’s wrist, sticking her tongue out slightly as she drew the constellation, deep in concentration. “You missed Alkaid, the very last one at the end.” She dropped her hand and Davey swore lightly under his breath. “I thought it felt shorter than usual.” He put his hand down as well. “Show me another one?” Katherine smiled giddily, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay!” she bit her lip, pausing for a second to search the sky, more clouds swirled overhead, blocking out patches of stars. She searched for a few more seconds, then put her hand back up and outlined another group of stars. “That’s Draco, the eighth largest constellation in the sky!” a large grin spread across her face. “Draco has a load of deep-sky objects, like the Cat’s Eye Nebula, that’s 3000 light-years away! There’s also a handful of galaxies and galaxy clusters like-” She cut herself off, heat rising in her cheeks as she twisted the hem of her shirt self-consciously between her fingers. “Sorry, I’m rambling again.” She mumbled quietly. Davey grabbed hold of her hand, intertwining their fingers, squeezing her hand lightly. “No, I love hearing you talk about stars! You’re so passionate and I love listening to you talk about your interests.” He moved their hands up and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her palm. “Can you show me another? If you want?” Kath’s cheeks turned redder, a slight smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Thanks.” She said quietly, before mentally dusting herself off, clearing her throat and sweeping the sky for another constellation. More clouds had formed, cutting down the sky by another portion. With a small sound of realisation, she landed on a small batch of stars that were grouped near the others that had previously been pointed out. “Hercules,” the smile grew a little wider. “It’s made up of fifteen stars,” she drew invisible lines connecting each pinprick of light. “But there’s something like three thousand, three hundred and eighty-one, though we can only see a hundred and thirty-five with the naked eye. He’s a pretty cool constellation, but,” Katherine pointed back up to Draco. “He killed Draco to get the apples he was guarding, which I think was pretty rude of him. He could’ve at least tried restraining him or something! Like he didn’t even look at Draco or anything, just threw a spear at him and was like ‘okay, he’s dead now, let’s get those apples!’ like how impolite can you be, y’know?” Davey chuckled quietly and wrapped Kath up tighter in his arms. “He didn’t even say ‘hi’ to Draco?” he asked.

“No!”

“Shame on him!”

“Yeah!” Katherine cheered. “Shame on him!” she giggled and nestled up against his chest, resting her head on his arm. She sighed contentedly and turned her head to face him. “You wanna show me one now?”

“But I don’t know any constellations.” Davey protested. Kath shrugged.

“So make some up.” He hummed as he examined the night sky, only a small patch of stars visible in the cloud-cover. He tilted his head slightly, looking for shapes in the sky. “That,” he said, connecting a vague heart in the stars. “Is Katherine. He pointed at two bright stars sitting next to each other near the top of the heart. “Those two stars are an easy way to find it.” Davey broke off, pausing as he thought of what he was going to say next, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as he thought. “Katherine was a kind-hearted girl who lived in a small town. But she was exceptionally beautiful.” Kath propped herself up on her elbow, smirking slightly as he continued. “So beautiful in fact, that Venus herself became jealous. She seethed away in her resentment for years, until one day she had enough and flung Katherine into the sky, imprisoning her in the stars so that Venus had no other competition.” Davey finished with one final trace of the heart, though he knew the shape had changed since the first time he drew it, clouds covering half of it. “That,” Katherine said after a pause. “Was probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” She smiled cheekily.

“Shut up,” Davey replied with a roll of his eyes and a smile of his own, feeling his cheeks begin to burn hot. Kath laughed, grabbing hold of his hand. “I’m sorry Davey,” she shivered slightly and tucked herself further into his warm body. “It was sweet. So sweet in fact, I think I might throw up!” She chuckled again, and Davey buried his face in the top of Katherine’s hair, groaning in embarrassment. “You know I’m not good at the romantic talk stuff.” Kath smiled and pressed her lips against his neck, their heads fitting together like puzzle pieces. “Aww, you know I’m just messing with you, right?” her eyelashes brushed against his jawline as she waited for a response. “Right?” she said again after a few seconds, moving away from his neck, and into a sitting position, as her nerves grew. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt or offend her boyfriend. ”Yeah, yeah, I know.” Davey answered, sounding vaguely sarcastic, and Kath cursed herself internally.

“Because I was! I mean, that was really sweet!” She stammered quickly. “Like not only was it nice, you created that snippet of story in a heartbeat! And it was wonderful!” Davey sat up as well, gently taking hold of her arms. “Kathy, It’s okay!” Katherine pushed her hands up against her cheeks.

“Ah! No, I didn’t mean to sound rude, oh gosh, now I feel bad! I’m so sorry!” Katherine was still talking at a hundred miles an hour, Davey could hardly get a word in edge-wise “Kath, Kath, I swear it’s okay. It was cheesy.”

“No, no it wasn’t! But even if it was, I love cheesy!”

“Kathy, it’s fine! Do-”

“I love cheesy! Cheesy is great! I-” Davey tugged her gently forward into his lap, pressing his lips to hers, silencing her panicking with a kiss. He could still taste the faint watermelon flavour from her Slurpee lingering on her lips as he deepened the kiss. After a few seconds, the two broke apart, both of them big, blushing messes. They rested their foreheads against each other, breathless. Katherine slid her hand into Davey’s, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She lay her head against his shoulder still bathing in the silence. “Blueberry was always my second favourite flavour.” She said, laughing quietly into his shirt. Davey chuckled too, “Yeah? Well, I think I need to try watermelon next time.” They sat there in a warm, comfortable silence, absorbing the marvellous feeling of just being with each other. Thunder rumbled overhead and a cold droplet of water splashed down onto Davey’s forehead, making him yelp in surprise. Katherine laughed, tilting her head back in amusement until another drop landed in her eye, and with another boom of thunder, the sky opened up and the heavens rained down upon them. Each drop that fell looked like a shooting star, and Kath and Davey laughed again, their cheeks beginning to return to their usual colours. Davey helped Kath to her feet, then reached behind him and slid his jacket off of his arms, holding it up over both of their heads to shield them from the rain. The two of them ran down the hill, one hand holding up Davey’s jacket and the other interlaced together, trying not to slip in the wet grass as they made their way back to Davey’s Motorbike. By the time they arrived at the bike, the rain had gotten heavier, and despite their jacket protection, the two of them were drenched. “Do you think the powers back on yet?” Katherine asked through chattering teeth.

“I dunno, guess we’ll see when we get back.” Davey handed her helmet over and tied his soggy jacket around his waist. Katherine looked at her helmet and paused, waiting for Davey to finish with his jacket. “Are you alright to go?” he looked up as Kath grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down into another kiss. They leaned against the bike, bodies pressed together as the rain-soaked through their skin. Kath pulled away, leaving Davey stunned, and jumped on the back of the bike, patting the spot in front of her. “You coming?” a smirk carved its way across Davey’s face as he hopped on, feeling Kath’s arms wrap around his waist. “Hold on.” He said though he knew she didn’t need to be reminded and kicked the stand back before taking off down the road, Kath giggling into his back as they drove home.

___

#asdfghjgf #i hope this is okay #its 3:14 am and my eyes are going all spotty lol #i feel like it lowkey got progressively worse as it went on but #://#i have a part 2 in the works if youre interested in it #dont feel pressured tho lol #aahh my brain broken imma shut up and go to sleep now #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #davey jacobs #daverine #davey x katherine #davey/kath #newsies

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afterglowparker · 5 years

Text

Speak Low if You Speak Love

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3,425

Warnings: None! It’s fluffy and super sweet.

Prompts:

“Please don’t forget about me.”

“You look cute in that shirt.”

Summary: One need not speak loud, to speak love.

A/N: Title of the story comes both from the band of the same name, but it’s also from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. If you have any idea on either of the two, you probably know where this is piece is going. I’ve just been in a soft, fluffy mood—for once in my life. I’m also just really big on the silent, subtle aspect of love. ((also, shoutout to @upsidedownparker for actually giving me the strength to post this, because i almost scrapped the entire thing!)

This is also my entry for @hillsnholland‘s writing challenge, as well as @hollandsosterfield & @spidey-caps writing challenge! happy (very early) birthday to all three of you!

The sounds of car horns and pedestrians on their morning commute leaked into your open window, accompanied by the morning sun that peaked through the curtains—both breaking into your subconscious. You felt yourself slowly come out of your dreams, as the weight around your waist became heavier; if it wasn’t for the heat radiating from the boy that always ran a few degrees too hot, the morning air would’ve caused goosebumps to raise on your skin.

Willing your mind to quiet down and fall back into the expanse of your thoughts, you tried to prevent your eyes from fluttering open. But no more than a minute later, your eyes were open and zoning in on the sight in front of you. You were laying on your left side, legs intertwined with the sleeping man whose arms were wrapped firmly around your figure; you had to crane your head up slightly to look at him. Your eyes slightly burn, not yet having time to properly adjust, but you’d admit that waking up to the sight of a sleepy Peter made it a little easier to deal with the discomfort; it always did.

Your attention is drawn to the way the hairs of his left eyebrow are splayed in different directions, how his eyelashes kiss his cheeks, the tiny crook of his nose, and the way his mouth is parted slightly and soft snores left his pink lips. Like many mornings before, you slowly lift your arm from its resting place on his waist, afraid of waking the boy who rarely sleeps, and let your fingers slowly trace over his features. Your fingerprints stain the porcelain skin as they took in the beauty set before them. First over his eyebrow, trying to smooth out the messy hairs, then softly over his eyes; they continued their journey by caressing the side of his face, feather-light touches down his cheek before they landed on his lips. The skin was slightly chapped and the soft snores that had been leaving them had stopped, and it was then that your eyes flickered back up, seeing warm pools of melted chocolate staring back at you. You felt the skin underneath your fingers curl upwards at the corners, as his hand came up slightly to hold your hand in his, stopping to place a kiss on the palm, before lowering your now intertwined hands to rest between your chests.

“G’morning,” he quietly whispered, as if any sound louder would cause the peaceful moment to dissipate into thin air, “having fun there, darling?”

“Mmm…just admiring the view,” you quipped back, the smile sat on your lips just as soft, as you breathed deeply, enjoying his eyes on you, “it gets better every day.”

“You’re quite the sight for sore morning eyes, yourself.”

“Truly poetic, Parker.”

“Yeah, I try.”

You both let the silence settle between you both, as you just stare into the other’s eyes, having your own conversation without words; comforted by the fact the other was there and in your arms. You almost fall back asleep, but the alarm on your phone rings out, informing you it’s officially time to start the day. You lightly groan, and bury your head into the crook of Peter’s neck, moving with him as he lays flat on his back. He stretches his arm to grab your phone from the nightstand and he makes quick work of shutting off the obnoxious buzzing.

“Why did I ever set that thing last night?”

Peter presses a soft kiss to your head, as you watch the way his chest rises and falls.

“Because we decided it would be a good idea to stay up till 3am binge-watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“And it was a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Peter squeezed your hip lightly, “it was. But now we have to get up, cuz you’ve got a university to be at.”

“Trying to get rid of me already, Parker?”

“Oh, yeah. You know it. I can’t wait to get you out of my hair. Damn near give me a heart attack everyday! I think I’m aging faster around you.” You slap his chest lightly, as he lets a laugh slip past his lips. “I’m only joking, love. You know I’m not gonna wanna let you go.”

“That’s what I thought,” you untangle you limbs from his, reaching over his body to grab your phone from the nightstand, before sitting up and checking your messages, ensuring no last minute emails from your university had been sent out. Looking back down at your boyfriend, you found his eyes firmly glued to your figure, eyebrows raised slightly, as his eyes were blown wide with adoration, “What?”

“You look cute in that shirt.”

You looked down, seeing the way that the worn and lightly faded physics is theoretical but the fun is real black tee sat on your figure

“Hmm…Yeah. Definitely better on me than my boyfriend.”

“Interesting way to accept a compliment. Your boyfriend might have to rethink letting you wear his clothes.”

“I’m way past the point of asking.”

“Trust me. He knows,” his hand that was still by your waist tapped on it lightly, “You do look cute though. I like when you wear my clothes.”

“You’re such a cliché Peter Parker,” you shook your head softly, smiling down at him, pushing his head slightly away from you, enjoying the way your heart fluttered at the sound of his laugh, “but I find it cute and endearing, so I think I’ll keep you around. Besides, you’re my ride to Syracuse later, so can’t have you going anywhere now.”

He pulls you down, causing you to yelp in surprise as you fall onto his chest. His lips instantly finding yours, as his right hand cups your cheek, pulling you deeper into the kiss, while his left hand sits on you lower back. He lets your lips move against his for a few moments, before pulling back, his nose slightly bumping yours, as he stared into your eyes.

“Today, it’s just you and me,” he spoke quietly, “Promise.”

“What? Spider-Man doesn’t call today?” You smiled, teasing lilt in your tone.

“He might. But he’s gonna have to take a rain check. I think Miles is more than capable of handling a night of patrol by himself.”

“You’re sweet, you know that? That kid absolutely adores you.” Peter had been mentoring a new, young spider-kid for the past few months, and while it caused Peter’s nerves to skyrocket through the roof, it was blatant in the way he talked about Miles how much he cared for him; it made your heart swell, and you couldn’t wait till you were older and could watch Peter tear his hair out while chasing your own children around, “You know you’re not gonna be able to leave him here without worrying.”

“Yeah, I know. But he knows to call if he really needs help.”

The idea of having a boyfriend constantly on call (crime and the threat to civilian safety being his employer, his heart of gold a faithful employee) and a moments notice away from leaving you, not guaranteed to come home was too overwhelming for some. But for you? It filled you with pride knowing that the man you had fallen in love with had such a genuine love for the people around him. He never asked for anything in return and that was an act of heroism in itself in your eyes. Peter Parker was so much more than what meets the eye and you wanted to shout it from the rooftops how amazing the man that laid before you was. Instead, you settled for pressing a kiss to his cheek, pulling back to see pink dusting where your lips had been and a wide set smile on his face, all traces of sleep completely gone.

“Okay, so here’s my thought process,” Peter started as he got out of your bed, pulling you up with him, as his eyes searched for his shirt he discarded last night, “we get ready, grab breakfast at your favorite place because as much as I would like to cook for you, I’d like to stay on good terms with your parents, and burning your kitchen down doesn’t seem like the way to do it. And then we grab some sandwiches from Delmar’s for the road, because they’re the best sandwiches in Queens, dare I say the world, and you can’t leave without having one. And then we kick this road trip off so you can sing horribly off-key to all the songs on my playlist.”

You grab the shirt from the back of your desk chair, chucking it in his direction, before you started walking to the bathroom, Peter hot on your tail.

“Sounds like a plan, Spider-Boy.”

Peter rolls his eyes, as you both grab your toothbrushes and work around each other, his hand grabbing the tube of toothpaste from your hand.

“I’m gonna let that slide just cuz it’s your last day.”

“All right Spider-Boy.”

And though he tried to act annoyed, his smiling figure in the mirror told you otherwise.

“I’m going to miss Breadboard so much while in Syracuse. I’m truly convinced nowhere has breakfast as good as them. Can I make it a rule that if you visit, you have to bring me something from Breadboard?”

“What, like my presence isn’t enough?”

“Of course it is, but like. If I could have waffles and you? I think that would just enhance the experience. I mean, think about it-”

Peter’s eyes crinkled at your antics, the smile that had placed itself on his face that morning yet to make an exit, as he listened to you ramble on. You were both walking down the street, intertwined hands swinging slightly in between you both. You were walking on the inside of the sidewalk, while Peter walked on the side by the road; he never verbalized that this was how he preferred to walk, but he was always sure to place himself between you and any possible danger, even if there wasn’t any obvious malevolent force staring you down. As you rounded the corner, Peter pulled softly on your arm before crossing the street, your body mindlessly reacting to his, so that his eyes could quickly flick side to side to ensure you were both safe, before crossing the road. Approaching the front of the shop, Peter opens the door for you, causing the small bell above it to chime, the older shop owner grinning as he sees two of his favorite customers arrive.

“Mr. Parker! Miss. Y/L/N! Haven’t seen your faces in here in awhile. Found a new sandwich shop?”

You laugh, letting go of Peter’s hand as you approach the counter, Peter instantly turning to the wall of snacks, and shook your head.

“Never, Mr. Delmar. You know you have the best sandwiches in Queens! We’d never even think about going elsewhere.”

“That’s what I like to hear. So, a number eleven and a number five, right?”

“Yes, and on the five could you please add pickles? No need to smush it down flat this time around.” You smile, finishing Peter’s preferred order when not on patrol. Mr. Delmar passes your order on, before turning back to face you.

“So, how are you? You back in school?”

“No sir, not yet. Clinging to my last moments of freedom before college starts up as we speak.”

Peter places down three bags of gummy worms, one bag of crisps, and his right hand finds its way back to your left as he inserts himself into the conversation.

“We’re actually on our way to Syracuse right now.”

“Syracuse? Bit of a trip from here.”

“Yeah, I know, but the program was too good to pass up. And by that I mean the scholarship, because wow college is expensive.”

“It is, but you’re both bright. Stay in school, otherwise-“

“We’ll end up like you.” You and Peter drone, finishing Mr. Delmar’s mantra.

“Still doesn’t seem like a bad way to end up, Mr. Delmar,” Peter starts again, bending down slightly to grab a pack of Oreos from under the counter, finishing as he gave them to Mr. Delmar to be rung up, “You really do have the best sandwiches in all of Queens.”

You nod eagerly.

“He wouldn’t let me leave without making sure I got my fix.”

“Smart young man you’ve got yourself there.” Mr. Delmar jokes, as he places the bag with your sandwiches on the counter, throwing in the other snacks as well, “That’s $10.”

“Mr. Delmar, you can’t-”

“It’s my shop and I can. The extra snacks are on me. As long as you promise to come back and visit when you’re back in the city, I think I can let this slide.”

You smile, Peter speaking as he pays.

“Don’t worry Mr. Delmar. I’ll come visit all the time.”

Mr. Delmar rolls his eyes, grinning at Peter’s antics.

“Think you could keep him in Syracuse with you, Y/N?”

Peter scoffs, but you laugh with a wide grin tugging at your lips. You slightly shake your head.

“Trust me, I tried. Unfortunately, I think you’re gonna be stuck with him while I’m away.”

“Geez, don’t fight over me. Truly, I feel the love.” Peter speaks, sarcasm thick on his tongue, his free hand grabbing the bag with your food from the counter, “Anyways, we really should get going.”

Peter squeezes your hand as you nod, smiling at Mr. Delmar once more before bidding him goodbye and exiting the shop.

“Wait I love this song!”

You yelled out, stopping Peter’s hand from skipping any further. The Maine’s “Numb Without You” rang throughout the car, as you began to lightly rock your head back and forth, singing along to the lyrics.

Peter kept his eyes on the road, but enjoyed the show he was getting from his peripheral. As the chorus kicked in, you shouted at Peter, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Pete, you’ve gotta sing along! C’mon, I know you know it.”

He just shook his head, before singing along with you, albeit out of tune, but you didn’t seem to mind as you danced in your seat, having fun throwing your own personal concert. As the song came to a close, you settled down with a huff, waiting to see what song shuffle put on next.

Peter lifted your intertwined hands from their resting place on the center console, towards his lips, where he placed a feather-light kiss on the back of your hand. He glanced at you briefly, smile stretching further across his face, as your cheeks showed the faintest sign of a blush. Without much further thought, you quickly leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, before sitting back in your chair, leaning your head against the window, keeping your eyes trained on his profile. Peter swears he felt his heart grow another two sizes.

You collapsed on the bed, as Peter placed the last box of your things at the foot of your bed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he stares at your body splayed across the bed.

“Yeah, don’t worry about your things, I’ve got it.”

“One, I’ve been helping you for the past two hours; two, you have superhuman strength, so I think me keeping up with you is a victory in itself; and three, that was the last box you’re just a drama queen.”

Peter launched himself onto the bed, a grunt of surprise forcing it’s way from your throat, as the curly haired boy in question laid his head on your chest and wrapped his arms around you best he could. He looked up at you, grinning.

“Yeah, but I’m you’re drama queen.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, running your fingers through the unruly mess on his head, “you are. Think I’ll keep you around for a little while longer.”

Your fingers scratched at his scalp slightly and the light pull on the tufts of hair was calming and Peter found himself drifting off. His eyes were trained on a medium sized shadow box frame sat on your bedside table, and he felt himself smile at the memories running through his mind—it was the gift Peter had given you for your two-year anniversary.

Inside the box sat a thin line of twine from which Peter hung three of his favorite photos from your relationship. The photo on the right was of you both in your Midtown Decathlon jackets, back to back, as you posed like Charlie’s Angels, wide smiles on both of your faces. The photo on left was of you and Peter before Senior Prom; he was carrying you bridal style, your dress billowing around you, and your hand was placed firmly on his chest, over his heart, showing off the corsage he had gotten you—his forehead was resting against yours as you shared a kiss. The final photo in the middle was his favorite. It was just of you. It had been on a spontaneous day trip you both took on a weekend and even though you both got chewed out by your parents when you got home, he swore that single shot of you alone was worth it. You were washed in light, the glow of the setting sun making you appear more angelic and heavenly than usual. You were running away from the crashing waves on the beach’s shoreline, smile stretching from eye to eye, as you ran back towards Peter, who had been taking photos of you for the better part of the last half-hour. That day would always be one of his favorites. Above the photos in simple roman numerals was the date he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend, and the bottom of the shadow box was filled with a thin layer of dried flower petals from the bouquet he had brought you prom night. The homemade project was no Monet, but you swore up and down that it belonged in the Met. You also swore he belonged in the Met, but that was a story for another time.

Peter fell out of his memories as he heard your heartbeat even out slightly, and your breathing became even, a telltale sign that you too were almost lost to your subconscious. His thumb lightly ran over the exposed skin of your hipbone, where your—his—shirt had risen. He stretched up, just enough to place a tender kiss to your neck.

“I love you…” he whispered, voice so faint it was almost swept into the still air of the room, “I love you so much. You are everything.”

“I love you,” You smiled, out of habit, as your heart rate rose slightly, still not used to the way the words made you feel. You don’t think you ever would be and you were fine with that, “to the moon and back, and then some.”

A comfortable silence blanketed the room, your fingers not stopping their motions through Peter’s hair, and it wasn’t until his fingers stopped moving against your skin that you pressed your lips to his hairline, letting them linger, before you whispered your one request from the doe-eyed boy laying in your arms.

“Please don’t forget about me.”

Peter lifted his head from the crook of your neck and rested his weight on his forearms so he could properly stare at you. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, hearing the truth in your gentle tone and the unwavering of your heartbeat. He shuffled up the bed, so that his nose brushed against yours lightly as he nudged his face a little closer to yours; his soft breathing warming the surface of your skin and his forehead rested against yours. He grabbed your hand and placed it palm down over his heart, and even in the absence of heightened senses, you could feel the strong, rapid beat of his heart.

“Not possible.”

You weren’t sure if you believed in soulmates, but you did believe in the idea of being able to love deeply; so deep sometimes you thought you’d drown. There were a lot of new challenges to navigate this next year away from home, but right there, in your cramped dorm room, on a bed much too small, with a mess of your belongings surrounding you, you kissed the boy your heart belonged too. You let yourself get lost in the pressure of his lips against yours, his soft caress, and in the way he leaned into your touch; tender declarations of love embracing you both fondly.

Permanent Taglist: @marvelousmorales @mercurys-rhapsody @sunrisespidey @upsidedownparker

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johnsbleu · 5 years

Text

Hold My Hand: John Wick & Reader Chapter 49

warnings: nsfw, minor john wick chapter 3 spoilers

The floor in the living room creaks as John walks throughout the house locking up all the doors and making sure everyone is gone. You’re already in the guest bedroom, praying like hell the bed is semi-comfortable for you and John, even if it was the most uncomfortable bed, John would never complain. You, on the other hand, would definitely complain about it.

Bleu pushes the door open with his snout and wags his tail when he sees you. He sniffs the bed a few times, then he groans loudly as he lays at your feet. The lights in the living room go dark, and John’s footsteps get closer as he appears in the doorway.

He leans against the door frame and exhales, “All locked up, and all the lights are off. I did leave on the light above the stove though, just in case someone needs some water or something in the night.”

“Oh, good idea actually. Dan usually gets up in the night for some water.” you say as you watch John start to undress. He throws his dress shirt on the bed and you get out from under the covers and put it on, leaving it unbuttoned, “I’m cold.”

“Well, it looks good.” he says and leans back against the headboard of the bed. He pats the spot between his legs and points at your foot, “You said earlier tonight that your feet hurt.”

“They hurt so bad.” you whimper as you crawl in between John’s legs and rest your feet in his lap.

“Look how tiny your feet are.” he holds up your foot, then puts his hand next to it for comparison, “Tiny.”

“Rub them, Jonathan!” you whine, playfully.

“They also stink.” he says, holding it up to his nose as he laughs and you wiggle your foot out of his grasp. “I’m just kidding.”

“You’re so gross.” you say, closing your eyes when John rubs his thumb into the arch of your foot. He pushes his thumb hard against the knot in your foot, working it loose and you gasp loudly, “Oh, my god, that feels so good.”

“Shh!” John laughs, “Someone will hear you.”

You look at John, cocking up an eyebrow as you open your mouth to moan loudly, but you don’t when his face turns bright red. He continues massaging your foot, and you watch as he starts to smile.

“What’s goin’ on?”

John looks up at you and shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“I don't believe you,” you say, almost singing, “Tell me.”

“I just want to thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, tilting your head.

“For everything. For...” he clears his throat and swallows hard, “For giving me a family.”

“You consider Tess and Jimmy your family?”

“Yeah, your mom too.” he nods and smiles at you, “Your mom is so nice to me, and when I picked her up from the airport, it was so…natural between us. And Dan, he’s cool. It’s just nice having them be so accepting of me. And your mom trusts me so much with you, so that makes me feel really good. I mean, you’re out here on your own, then you moved in with me and she immediately accepted it and…” he leans closer and whispers, “I think she likes me. I think she thinks I’m good for you.”

“Of course she does! John, she loves you. When I talk to her on the phone, the first thing she asks about is you. She really likes you a lot. She goes on and on about how good you are for me.” you watch John as he smiles wide, then it slowly fades. “Did Helen’s family not like you?”

John shakes his head, “Conversation for another night I suppose.”

“Got it.” you laugh and get up to move to sit next to John.

“Tess is like that really annoying little sister I always wanted when I was younger.” he laughs as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh, god, I know.” you laugh, “Except she’s my annoying big sister. It’s good to have her. I tend to think I deserve the awful things people say to me, so I’m not the best at sticking up for myself, but Tess, she’s great at sticking up for me.”

John brushes his thumb against your cheek to get you to look up at him, and he smiles sweetly, “You know you don’t deserve the awful things people say to you though, right? And I’ll always be here to remind you of that.”

“Yeah.” you nod and lean up to meet John’s lips for a tender kiss. “So, I have you, Tess, and Jimmy now. Seems like a good trio to me.”

“Yeah, Jimmy really cares about you.” he nods and looks down at you, “Kept asking if you were going to be okay when you were talking to Tess. He was so worried, and he felt so bad because Matt had come with his cousin.”

“Well, that’s not his fault. It’s not her fault either. I’m sure she had no idea who he was, and I’m sure once she finds out, she won’t be going out with him again.”

“Oh, definitely not. Jimmy already talked to her and she was disgusted. She was asking if you were okay, too. That family…worries a lot.” he laughs and presses a kiss to the top of your head as he hugs you, “She told me to hug you for her, so...”

“That’s sweet.” you hug John, then intertwine your fingers with his and sigh, “Can I ask you a question? You can totally say no, I won’t be upset.”

“You can ask me anything.” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Did you ever look for your family? You have the resources and the money…”

He nods his head slowly, almost like he knew you were going to ask. He starts to shake his head and looks at you, “No, I never did.”

“Really?” you tilt your head back to look at him and he nods.

“Nope, just figured since they didn't want me, I shouldn't waste my time looking for them.” he says, looking down at you, “I’ve made peace with that.”

They didn't want him. You feel your heart break at the thought of John being so young and not understanding why his parents gave him up.

“Maybe they couldn't keep you. Maybe it was a really unfortunate situation.” you say, trying to play devil's advocate. “Maybe…she was really young and just couldn't take care of a kid. We don’t know the whole story, John.”

He shakes his head, “It doesn't matter.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up. I upset you, I can tell.” you say and feel your heart break again. Upsetting John was your last intention, but you just wanted to know a little more about his childhood.

John lets out a small laugh as he shakes his head, “You didn’t upset me.”

You sit up to straddle John and his hands move to your hips. “Listen, you're my family, John. And you know what, if they didn't want you, then fuck them. They're missing out on the most wonderful man I've ever met in my entire life. You're so full of love, and it amazes me that even after everything you’ve been through, you still have such a big heart. I have literally never met someone like you.”

John cups your face and leans his forehead against yours, “Thank you.”

“I mean it. Jonathan, you are…amazing. I know that word is so overused, but it’s true. You’re so patient with me when I’m having a bad day. You’re understanding when I don’t want to talk about something, and I’ll admit, I am not like that with you.” you laugh and John starts to smile.

“You underestimate yourself a lot. Not many people would have stuck around after finding out their boyfriend is…well, me.” he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, smiling when you press a kiss to it, “They would have ran for the hills when they saw the guns in my basement and probably been scared of me, but you…you just yelled at me.”

“See, I’m not scared of you.” you say, poking John’s stomach. You wrap your arms around him and he pulls into a bear hug as you two cling to each other in silence.

“Anyone would have left me when they saw the way I was acting tonight.” he whispers and you lean back to look at him, “But I needed to do something. I’m sorry that you had to see it, see me being…”

“Don’t say it. Jonathan Charles Wick, don’t you dare.”

“A monster.” he whispers and you sigh loudly as you slouch.

“Never. Never, Jonathan.” you cup his face and shake your head, “I would never think of you as some sort of monster, and I hate that you think that’s what you are. I’m sorry that someone has gotten into your head and made you believe that, but all I saw tonight was a man protecting someone he loves.” you say, then immediately start to laugh, “God, was that corny or what?”

“It was a little.” John laughs as he pulls you back into his arms. “Been hanging around me too much.”

“Well, it’s true.” you close your eyes, then start to laugh again, “Can you believe I pulled the ‘John Wick is my boyfriend’ card tonight? Who the hell was I?”

John laughs quietly and leans back to see your face, “I was honestly so shocked.”

“I mean, you are just…Jonathan to me. You’re just John.” you shake your head and chuckle, “But I kinda like throwing it in his face who you were. I know he knows who you are. Everyone does. Except me apparently.”

“And I liked it that way. Well, until I thought we were both ready for you to know.”

“That didn’t go according to plan, did it?” you say, and the two of you laugh.

“Can I show you something?” he asks and moves you back to the bed as he stands up. “I'll be right back.”

You watch John leave the room and hear the basement door squeak open. Bleu is at the foot of the bed and perks up a little as John's feet scamper down the steps. After a few minutes, Bleu begins to wag his tail, alerting you that John is on his way back into the bedroom.

“Hi,” you say and kneel on the bed. You notice John holding a manila folder and you look back up at him, “What's this?”

“When we were looking at baby pictures, I thought about these. I didn't look for my family, but I do have some stuff from my childhood. I know you want to know more about it and trust me, it was pretty uneventful.” he sits back down on the bed and taps the spot next to him.

“Okay, well, I definitely don’t believe that it was uneventful. You were in foster care, and you were in the Marines for a while. That’s not uneventful, you’re just leaving stuff out so you don’t make me sad, or so I don’t judge you -- which I never would.”

John laughs and shrugs a little, “Well, what would you say if I told you I went to a school that trained children to become assassins?”

“I would say it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve told me.” you look up at John and smile, “The weirdest thing you’ve ever told me was…hmm, probably that you’ve never seen Titanic. Everyone has seen that movie, Jonathan. Get with the program.”

John stares at you in awe and he exhales in relief, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you.”

You pat John’s cheek and smile, “I love you.”

“I love you.” John holds your gaze for a few moments before he looks down at the folder and pulls out some papers, “This is a file with all my information on it.”

“Can I look at it?” you ask, reaching out for it and sitting cross legged next to John.

“Of course.” he laughs and hands it to you, “Why else would I have brought it up here?”

John’s file has him listed all over the world at some point. Hawaii, Mexico, Germany, Italy. You knew John traveled a lot for work, but knowing he was a kid when he went to a lot of these places takes you by surprise.

“Where haven’t you been?”

“Where haven’t I been?” he laughs and tilts his head back as he thinks, “Well, I’ve never been to Australia.”

“Really? Not much assassin business going in Australia?” you laugh.

“No, there is. There’s business going on everywhere, you’d be surprised. I just haven’t had any jobs in Australia. Plus I…work for people who usually do their business in New York.”

“Makes sense.” You shuffle through the papers more and land on John’s birth certificate, and John lets out a small sigh. You look up at John and smile, “We met a few days after your birthday.”

“Did you just realize that, or just not know my birthday?” he laughs and you playfully slap his chest.

“No, I know your birthday, you ass!” you squint your eyes at John as he laughs. “Did you get anything good for your birthday this year?”

“You.” he smiles and you laugh loudly. “Actually, Jimmy got this weird face statue to put my glasses on.”

“You don’t wear glasses.”

“I didn’t have the heart to tell him, he was so proud of this thing.” he says and points over to the strange looking statue on the side table.

“He’s an odd gift giver, isn’t he?” you laugh and look down at the papers again then back at John, “This part is about your parents, not much information.”

“Yeah.” he says quietly, and you can hear the sadness in his voice.

You can see it hurts John that he doesn’t know anything about his family, and you can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. Reaching out to cup his face, he leans into the palm of your hand and closes his eyes for a moment, and you lean forward to kiss his forehead.

“That must be so hard. It must have been really hard growing up and not knowing your family.”

John nods slowly and exhales, “Yeah, it was.”

“Well, if you ever wanted to, we could look into finding them.” you say quietly and John opens his eyes to look at you. “I just want you to know that I’d be supportive either way. Whether you want to find them or not. I will fully support you, and I’ll be with every step of the way if you decide that’s what you want to do.”

“I don’t want to look for them.” he says as his eyes dart over your face, “I have my family now.”

You smile at John and feel yourself tearing up. He leans his forehead against yours and hands you a picture, and you gasp when you see it’s John as a baby. “Ooh, my god!”

“I have no idea how old I was.”

“Hmm, I'd say around nine months. You look the same age as Harper in this.” you hold the picture up next to John and he smiles. “Oh, my fucking god, I see it. This is literally the best thing I've ever seen. Please tell me there's more.”

“There's a few more,” he says and shuffles through the papers and holds up another picture. “I believe I was seven in this picture.”

You start to tear up a little and hold the picture up to John again, comparing the photo to his face. “I want to die, look at how cute you are. Look at your dorky little smile and your hair. Oh, my god, this is the best day of my life.”

John holds up another picture and laughs, “There's a few that were taken by a girl, she was big into photography–” John looks at you and shakes his head, “It wasn’t Helen, and we didn’t date or anything.”

You put your hands up in defense and laugh, “You went there, not me.”

“I think she liked me, but I wasn’t really interested in dating. It was just nice to have someone to hang out with sometimes.” John leans over to kiss you and laughs, “Please don't make fun of me.”

You already feel a laugh rising in your chest and when John hands you the picture, you bend over laughing until your eyes fill with tears. “You're kidding me? Look at you, you're so tiny. How old were you?”

“Mid to late twenties.” he says, leaning over to look at the picture with you. “Probably around your age actually.”

“Your hair was so short.” you say and run your fingers through his hair. “It’s weird to think that you had it really short for the Marines.”

“Yeah, I hated it.” he closes his eyes when you tug lightly on his hair. “I like it better this way.”

“I do, too. You are literally the most gorgeous man I have ever laid my eyes on, you know that?” you say and hold the picture up to John, “Literally, you have not aged at all.”

“I have.” he laughs and grabs another picture. “This girl in this picture was…my first time.”

“Okay, now that is adorable. How old were you?”

“I think I was around 17,” he says and looks at the picture. “I was so nervous.”

“Please, please, please, tell me about it.” you say, knowing damn well it’s going to be embarrassing.

John starts to laugh and looks up at you, “Well, I took her out to this restaurant. I thought I looked so good, I wore this suit that was way too big for me. And she looked very pretty, she was wearing a dress with flowers all over it. We drove down to the beach after dinner, and I laid a blanket down on the ground and…”

“Sex on the beach for your first time. John, how ambitious of you.”

John rolls his eyes and looks back at the picture. “Yeah, bad idea. There was sand everywhere and on top of it all, I lasted about 45 seconds.”

“45 seconds?” you begin to wheeze as John watches you. You try to stifle the laughter and cup John’s face. “That is so fucking funny. I mean, I’m sure it was a wonderful 45 seconds.”

“Hey, don’t laugh, I was nervous as hell. My hands were shaking so bad. I thought she was gonna laugh at me.”

You roll your eyes at John, still laughing hard, “Yeah right, you know damn well that your dick is huge. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“No, I mean because I didn’t last long.” he says, rubbing your thigh, “Young John Wick… didn’t last long.”

“Yeah, well, old John Wick doesn’t last that long sometimes either.”

John’s mouth drop open in shock and he laughs loudly, “Mean.”

“Hey, I’ll take it as a compliment.” you laugh and look back down at the picture. John has his arm around the girl’s shoulder and a fake smile is plastered on his face. “For it being your first time, you don’t look very happy in this picture.”

“This wasn’t my first time, this was after we were dating for awhile.”

“Oh, so, she was also your girlfriend?” you ask and look up at John.

“She was.” he says. You hand the picture back to John and he looks at it closely, sighing and shaking his head, “She was not very nice to me.”

“Oh, no.” you frown and lean over to kiss John’s forehead.

“She was controlling, and she wanted to marry me almost a month after dating.” he laughs, “I was 17 years old, why the hell would I want to do that? And honestly, I was a little sick of people trying to control me.”

“Well, obviously that didn’t happen.” you say, looking at John. “Unless you have another marriage you’re hiding from me.”

John playfully taps your leg and laughs, “Nope, she dumped me on the same beach that we had sex on.”

“Oh, tragic. I’ll kick her ass for being mean to you.” you say and put your fists up. You try not to laugh at John, but your body starts to shake from holding in your laughter. You cover your mouth and John looks up at you. “I’m so sorry, that’s terrible. I just can’t get over you only lasting 45 seconds.”

John tackles you to the bed and tickles you, “Yeah, I’m sure your first time was funny, too.”

“Oh, my first time was bad.” you say and John nods, waiting for you to tell him. “All you need to know is it was in the basement of a friend’s house, and all my friends listened to us. Well, listened to him. I was quiet back then.”

“Not anymore?” he smirks.

“Nope,” you lean up to kiss him, then flop back on the bed, “Anyway, Tess protected the door for the three minutes that it lasted. He came, and that was it.”

“That was it?”

“Not very satisfactory, I didn’t even…you know. I went home and cried in my mom’s bed for about three days straight. I didn’t really regret that I had sex, I just regretted that my first time was so bad. Then again, everyone’s first time is bad.” you say and lean up to kiss John, “Except with you.”

He laughs and lays down on top of you, “Our first time was pretty good, I’d say we both enjoyed ourselves.”

“It was really good -- amazing, actually. You definitely lasted longer than 45 seconds…maybe 47 seconds.” you tease and John laughs. “It was good though, I remember being so worried you were going to rip me in half.”

John jerks his hips a little and smiles, “Yeah, me too.”

You bite your lip, trying your hardest not to smile, “And the thumb thing you always do…”

John pulls you on top of him and licks his thumb, then slides his hand into your underwear, rubbing your clit slowly. “This?”

“Yes, that. Fuck.” you start to grind against John and close your eyes, but he removes his hand and moves you back to the bed as you try to catch your breath. You glare at John as you pull your nightgown down, “Such a tease.”

He starts to laugh and leans over to kiss you, “I grabbed your baby picture on the way back up. Look at your hair, it’s just stuck all up on top of your head and your cute little smile, you look so proud of your stuffed animals.”

You look over and see John holding your baby picture next to his, “Pretty cute. I really hope our kids look like you though.”

John looks up at you and you shrug, not knowing what to say when you realize it just slipped out. He nods and smiles, letting it go and you feel relief wash over you.

“You’re so damn cute.” John says and holds your picture up next to your face, “Look at your little smile. You look the same, too.”

“Pfft, yeah, right.” you laugh and shove John’s hand away.

John takes all the pictures and puts them on the side table. He looks over at you as you tuck your hair behind your ear and he points at your ring.

“Where did you get that?” he asks and takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your ring. “It’s beautiful.”

“I got it from Tess, it was my gift from her.” you say and curl up next John. “You like it? She made sure to get blue because it’s my favorite color, and because of this guy.” you tap Bleu with your foot and he looks at you.

“It’s really beautiful.” John says again and you take it off your ring finger, moving it to your middle finger.

“I can’t figure out which finger it feels best on.” you laugh and move it back to your ring finger. “I think it feels best here.”

“You should keep that finger free.” John frowns and you look up at him.

“Why?”

John tries to hide a smile, but he starts to laugh, “You know why.”

“Are you gonna make me Mrs. Wick anytime soon?” you ask and John laughs so loud, it echoes throughout the room. “Sorry, I’ll stop asking, but just know I’m waiting as patiently as I can. And when you do ask…it’s gonna be a yes.”

“Peach, it has to be a surprise. I can’t just do it. Will you marry me? What’s the fun in that? We’re just laying in bed.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” you crawl on top of John, hiking up your nightgown a little and John smiles wide.

“That wasn’t a proposal.” he shakes his head and cups your face. Leaning close to John’s face, you grind against him and he laughs. “It has to be special. You deserve something special.”

“Fine.” you run your hands up his chest and onto his biceps, “Your arms are so big. I want them wrapped around me all the time.”

John’s hands move up your thighs as you lean closer, kissing each other passionately. You begin grinding against John as he slowly bucks his hips under you, and you can feel his cock growing harder and harder.

“Wait...” he sits up and moves you back to the bed. He opens the door a crack and looks at Bleu, “Go lay down, boy.” Bleu hops off the bed and John watches as he walks out of the bedroom. “He can come back in after.”

“Oh yeah, definitely don’t want him in here for what I’m about to do to you.” you joke, wrapping your arms around John’s neck as he crawls on top of you. “He’s a good boy though, he protected me tonight.”

“I’m not surprised.” John presses kisses over your stomach as he lifts your nightgown up, “Wish he would have bit Matt’s face off. Bleu is too sweet for that though.”

“My boys protected me tonight.” you cup John’s face and smile sweetly, “Thank you again.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” he says and kisses you tenderly. He lifts you off the bed a little to take off his dress shirt that you’re wearing and his eyes grow wide, glued to your arm.

You look down to see the bruises that Matt left, and you gasp as you attempt to wipe them off like it's a temporary tattoo. You didn't realize that they were even there. Matt gripped you hard and you knew he was probably leaving behind bruises, but your dress had sleeves so you didn’t even think about checking. John sits up straight and gently rubs his thumb over it as he sighs loudly.

“I’m sorry.” he says and you watch as he leans down to kiss your arm. His lips are warm and soft, and you feel his tongue glide against your skin. You sit up and wrap your arms around John, and he pulls you tighter into his arms. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Let’s just forget about it for now.”

John holds your gaze as you kneel on the bed and lift your nightgown up a little as you pull your panties off. He lays down on his back, then he scoots to the center of the bed and kicks the blankets to the floor.

Your fingers wrap around the waistband of his boxers and you tug them off slowly, killing John with anticipation. Still keeping eye contact, you crawl on top of John and pull your nightgown over your head.

“I love you,” you run your fingers through John’s hair and cup his face, “I love you so much.”

You press your lips to John’s as he lays back on the bed, holding you tight to his chest. You lift yourself up a little and reach down between the two of you to slide his cock between your legs. Still keeping your lips pressed together, you roll your hips and John tilts his head back to moan. He bends his knees as he bucks his hips wildly, and the bed creaks incredibly loud to John’s horror.

“This is not going to work.” you laugh and look at John frozen in place.

He slides you back to the bed and sits up to pull on his boxers, “What are we going to do then? There’s no way we can just stop now.”

“Very flattering, Mr. Wick.” you wink, then look around the room as you think, “The basement?”

“The car?” he suggests and you quickly hop off the bed to put on your nightgown again.

“Of course you’d suggest that.” you laugh and lean up to kiss him.

“It’s only because it’s away from everyone.” he says, but you know it has nothing to do with that. John has told you before he wants to have sex in his car, and honestly, at this point, you’re down. He’s so sad about the events that unfolded tonight, and if this helps cheer him up a little, you’re more than happy to do it.

Holding tight to John’s hand, you both tiptoe through the house, and when you hear a noise coming from your bedroom, you freeze in place, “Oh, my god.”

“What?” John turns around, looking at you, then starts to laugh when he hears it too. “They’re having sex in our bed. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“We’ll just wash the sheets.” you jump into John’s arms, pressing kisses to his neck. “Or buy new ones.”

“I know, but it’s Jimmy and Tess.”

You cock up an eyebrow and look at John, “You’re telling me that if we stayed at their house for the night and I wanted to have sex, you wouldn’t fuck me in their bed?”

John opens his mouth to argue, then he nods, “You got me there.”

Still holding tight to you, John quickly walks out to the garage, turns on the light and quietly opens the driver side door. You hop off of him and he sits down, then taps his thighs, “Hop on.”

You carefully crawl into the car and onto John’s lap. He puts his hands behind you to stop you from bumping the horn with your ass and when you tap it a little, you both start to laugh. You finally get situated, and John slowly and carefully shuts the door.

He lifts your nightgown up and pulls it over your head, throwing to the passenger seat as your lips meet, desperately kissing each other. He reaches between the two of you to pull his cock free from his boxers and you sink down onto him as the two moan loudly.

“Oh, my god,” you say and feel John grabbing your ass, guiding you and moving you faster on his cock.

John’s hand slides up your chest and wraps lightly around your throat, “That feel good?”

“Mhm,” you suck on John’s thumb and he leans forward to pepper your chest with kisses. “You’re so hard for me tonight.”

“Well, you look beautiful tonight, and the way you were moving when we were dancing...”

“Almost came in your pants, didn’t you?” you laugh.

John starts to laugh and he looks up at you, “If I’m being honest, yeah. You’re kind of a huge tease.”

“You have no room to talk. You just stuck your hands in my pants, trying to get me off and then just stopped like it was nothing.” you say and John laughs again.

John reaches down and lays his seat back, and he smiles when you kiss over his chest and up to his neck. The two of you press your foreheads together as you moan breathlessly, and John groans loudly when you rotate your hips slowly.

“Peach, I’m sorry.”

Burying your face in the crook of John’s neck, you start to laugh, “Already?”

John pulls you back so he can see your face and gives you a small smile, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” you look down to where the two of you are connected, but since it’s pretty dark in the garage, you can’t see anything, “You can’t be done already. You didn’t even make…the face.”

“No, I just…I should have been there with you tonight.” he shakes his head and tilts it back against the seat to look at you.

“Baby, don’t. It’s over with.”

“Yeah, but if I had been there, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.” he says and you roll your eyes. You move to get off of him and he grabs your waist to keep you in place, “What are you doing?”

“John…” you sigh and sit up straight, “Listen, it happened. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

John frowns a little and he cups your face, “I know, but I still--”

“You still wish you could have been there, I get it. I’m okay though, isn’t that what matters?” you lean your forehead against John’s and he nods.

“Yeah, that’s what matters.”

“Are you going to keep bringing this up?” you ask, rubbing your thumb against his beard.

John starts to laugh, then shrugs, “Probably, but I won’t bring it up anymore tonight.”

“I’m fine with that. Now…fuck me.” you say, and you moan loudly as he starts bucking his hips frenziedly.

John moves you to bounce up and down on him, and you put your hand on the ceiling of the car to keep yourself from hitting your head. His hand trails up to your breast and he leans up, sucking on your nipple.

“You’re so wet tonight. Listen to the sounds you’re making.”

“Can you blame me? You looked fucking delicious all day.” you laugh and bite at John’s neck.

“It was so hard to keep my hands to myself today. Right before everything happened, I was gonna pull you into the backyard.”

“What were you gonna do to me in the backyard?” you ask, moaning in the crook of John’s neck. He pulls you back to make eye contact with you, and he smiles cheekily.

“I was gonna bend you over and fuck you as hard as I could. I was gonna rip that dress off of you and take you right in the backyard, listening to you moan my name.”

“Fuck,” you cry out and ride John faster as he begins to breath heavily.

You watch as he leans his head back against the seat, and you tighten around him as you feel him rubbing your clit with his thumb, bringing on your orgasms simultaneously. You tilt your head back and quickly cover your mouth with your hand, feeling a loud moan beginning to surface.

“Let me hear.” John says and moves your hand just as you let out an earsplitting moan.

Holding tight to each other, you ride out your orgasms, moaning and breathing loudly. You tuck your hair behind your ear and look at John as he pants, trying to catch his breath. The windows in the car have fogged over, and you start to laugh when you see your hand print on the window.

“I don’t remember doing that.”

“Wow.” John laughs and looks at you, still holding tight to your waist as he pulls his seat back up. “So…I make a face?”

“Yeah,” you cover your mouth as you laugh. “You always like…scrunch your eyebrows together and tilt your head back when you come. Sometimes you clench your jaw like you’re trying not to scream or something. Wish you would though, then I’d know I’m doing something right.”

John slaps your ass and laughs loudly, “Trust me, you’re always doing something right.”

You grab your nightgown and pull it back over you and nod to the door, “We should probably head back in.”

“Yeah.” he nods and watches you wince as you lift yourself off of him.

John opens the glove compartment and takes a few tissues, quickly wiping himself off, then he grabs more and pats between your legs. As quietly as you can, you open the car door and wait for John to fix himself.

He reaches out for your hand and peeks through the door, then looks at you, “I think we’re safe.”

You tiptoe through the living room and see the kitchen light is on. Peeking around the corner, you see Tess sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.

“What is she doing awake?” you whisper to John and he peeks around the corner.

“Apparently she was hungry.” he walks past you heading for the kitchen, and you pull back him to you.

“What are you doing? You don’t have a shirt on, and you’re only in your boxers.” you point down and he laughs quietly.

John looks down at his boxers and shrugs, “I think she can control herself. She is a married woman after all.”

“I…” you blink at John a few times, and he walks into the kitchen and greets Tess.

“Hey, Tess. Can’t sleep?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water.

“Oh…uh,” she clears her throat and laughs, “No, I was starving. Jimmy is passed out and I thought I’d just come grab a bowl of cereal, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not. Eat whatever you want.” he says and from the glass on the oven, you see him lean against the counter. “There’s still some leftover food in the fridge and there’s cake as well.”

“Nah, I was craving cereal.” she says, holding up a box of sugary cereal, “I’m guessing she picked this cereal, you don’t seem like the type to eat this. You seem more like a healthy cereal type of guy. Lots of fiber, I bet.”

“Actually, I picked that, but yeah, she definitely picks out the cereal. She picks out a lot of our junk food.” he laughs.

“Excuse you,” you gasp as you walk into the kitchen, “You buy junk food.”

John looks at you over his shoulder and laughs, “Yeah, but you pick it out.”

“So, what are you two doing awake?”

You and John look at each other, and your cheeks start to burn as you shuffle in place. John takes a big gulp of water so he doesn’t have to answer and you roll your eyes at him. You look at Tess as she leans back in her chair, trying to look at John and his tattoos.

You walk over and sit down next to Tess, pulling your nightgown down when you remember you’re not wearing any underwear. You drum your fingers on the table to get Tess’ attention and she jumps.

“Huh?” she says and looks at you, “Oh, I was…wait, I mean, I couldn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t ask you anything.” you turn around and look at John as he finishes off his bottle of water, “Baby, come here.” John walks over and stands behind you, and you get up and point at the chair, “Sit down.”

“Okay.” John laughs and sits down.

You grab Tess’ hand, pulling her up to stand next to you, “There, now you can look.”

“What?” he says, turning around to look at you.

“Your tattoos. She wants to see them.” you say and look at Tess, “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was trying to be subtle. I was going to wait until you invited us over to go swimming, but since your pool still isn’t filled…” she laughs and you push John forward so she can see his tattoos. She reaches out and brushes her fingers over the wolf on his right shoulder, “Your tattoos are amazing, John. Are you ever going to get more?”

John starts to laugh and shakes his head, “I don’t know. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” Tess asks.

“If we had a baby, I’d maybe get something.” he says and Tess looks over at you and smiles, nudging you and winking. John looks up at you and smiles, “I’d get a tattoo with you.”

“Matching tattoos, how corny. You know what, that’s cute actually. We always wanted to get matching tattoos, and Jimmy and I want to get one as well.” Tess says, still looking at John’s tattoos. “We should all go together and get one.”

You lean forward to look at John and smile, “You can get my face tattooed across your chest.”

John starts to laugh and shakes his head fast, “I love you, but I don’t want that.”

Tess furrows her brow in confusion, “You have two crosses, I didn’t realize you were...religious.”

John chuckles and looks over his shoulder, “I’m not.”

“Well, then why do have them?” Tess teases.

“I was young when I got all of these.”

Tess runs her fingers over the large cross in the middle of John’s back and she gasps loudly, “Jesus, John, this isn’t a tattoo.”

John looks up at you and frowns as you lean over to look at it with Tess. She looks up at you with tears in her eyes and puts her hand over her mouth.

“John, she’s speechless. We did it. We did the impossible.” you say, and John laughs quietly.

“Were you fucking…branded?” she asks, rubbing her fingers over the bumped up skin.

“Something like that.” he says quietly, and he reaches for your hand to pull you back to him.

“Exactly like that.” you say and you watch a tear slide down Tess’ cheek. John’s left hand slides between your legs and onto your knee, and he pulls you even closer.

“Well, I hate this.” Tess says and you move to hug her. “I hate this, John. And not to be weird, but I…want to kiss it and make it better. In a platonic way…if that’s possible.”

“I will!” you say happily and press your lips to John’s back, moving them up to the crook of his neck and he squirms away. “Ticklish.”

When you touch his shoulder, John instantly can tell the difference between Tess’ hand and yours, and he smiles at you over his shoulder. You sit down next to John at the table and watch as Tess continues looking at his tattoos. He props head on his hand, eyes darting over your face as the two of you look at each other.

Tess leans closer to get a better look at the cross in the middle of his back and finally notices the other scars littering his skin. She puts her hand over her mouth and looks at you with tears in her eyes.

“I know.” you whisper and look at her, smiling softly.

“John, baby, you are covered in scars.” she says, and John quickly turns around to look at her. She notices the scars on his chest and stomach, and she covers her mouth again with both hands as she gasps, “Oh, my god.”

“Oh no, not you too.” he laughs and stands up to hug Tess. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I cried the first time I saw them, too.” you say and watch Tess as she stares at them.

She looks at John’s stomach and frowns even more when she sees the splatter of scars, “I know about your job, well, barely anything about your job, but I just…I guess I never thought about it. You getting hurt like this.” she reaches out to touch a scar on his stomach and he flinches.

“Your hands are cold.” he laughs.

“How did you get this?”

“Ask my map.” he laughs and points at you.

“Uh,” you get up and point at John’s stomach, “I think this was the broken bottle, right?”

“Yeah.” John nods.

“And this one?” she points at a scar on his right side.

“A gun. Two bullets.” you say and Tess points at more, “Gun, knife, another knife, gun.”

Tess’ eyes scan over his chest and she sees a thick scar on his collar bone, “What about that?”

“Huh?” you stand on your tiptoes and look at it, “I don’t know about that one.”

“Knife.” John says, “Had to stitch it myself.”

“Oh, my god.” she wipes a tear off her face and looks at you, “How do you do this?”

“Well, I’m always in a constant state of worry when it comes to John,” you wrap your arms around John’s waist and press kisses to his chest. “But I haven’t had to worry about that lately since he hasn’t had a job in a while.”

“Which is still my choice, by the way.” John pulls your arms around him tighter and laughs, “I’m fine, Tess.”

“Listen, I’m blaming everything on this baby.” she starts to sob and she covers her face again.

“Should I start calling you too?” he asks as he laughs.

Tess starts to laugh and exhales loudly, “This is so stressful, and he’s not even my husband!”

John looks over at you and smiles, “Should we head to bed?”

“Yeah.” you nod and John picks you up bridal style as you squeal loudly, “John! I don’t have any underwear on.”

“Ooh, that’s why you two were awake.” Tess nods and brings her bowl to the sink, “Wait…where the hell were you?”

“His car.” you laugh and press a kiss to John’s face.

“You two are wild, let me tell you.” she says, shaking her head.

“Definitely not.” you say and John bounces you in his arms. “Also, don’t think we didn’t hear you and Jimmy about 45 minutes ago.”

“Well, I heard you two talking earlier in the bathroom, so consider it payback.” she blurts out, then covers her mouth when she looks at John, “Sorry.”

John leans closer to your ear and whispers, “She…she heard us?”

You try your best to push the laughs down, but you tilt your head back laughing loudly, “Yeah, she did.”

“We’re going to bed now.” John says, quickly turning around, heading for the guest room.

Tess follows you through the living room and stops at the steps, “Goodnight, you two. Love you.”

“Goodnight.” you and John say together.

“Love you.” you say, waving at her.

Tess laughs loudly as she starts her way up the stairs, “I can see your ass, by the way.”

taglist: @keanubot @raveviolet @deviljoonie @cheekybluefox @ibelielveinmusic @avxgers @beyond-antares @hhighkey @lokismortallove @vladtoly @sanctuarygirl @daily-evanstan @chicksamwitch @star017 @lainalainalain

Sorry I’m so shit with tagging people. lmfao

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #fic: hold my hand

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snokoms · 5 years

Text

under the sea part 6

yesyesyes we have finally reached the part with stiles

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310579/chapters/51626920

He slowly feels himself drifting to consciousness. Futily trying to stay in the darkness as long as he can, he lays with his eyes closed.

He is still in the water.

The stabbing knifes and spiderwebs are gone now, but his legs feel strange. Heavy, and stuck to each other. When he flexes his hands, he notices a thin like webbing between his fingers. Upon opening his eyes, he can make out the form of a cave around him. He is laying in something soft, it is slowly waving around him. It feels nice against his skin. Soft, like it’s caressing him.

When he brings his hands to his face his eyes confirm what he had felt. The webbing is thin and slightly see through. Almost like they’re not fully developed yet, he thinks to himself. When trying to sit up, Stiles notices something is attached to his back. It feels heavy and light at the same time and he can feel the seaweed and water moving against it. Upon bringing his hands to his back, he feels the layout of a fin. It starts just underneath his skull and goes all the way to his ass. He takes a slow breath.

This is no time to panic Stiles. Keep it together. You got this. Slowly he lowers his eyes toward his legs. That aren’t legs anymore. Yup, that is tail. He closes his eyes and takes another slow breath. In 1, 2, 3, hold, out 1, 2, 3.

After another few breaths he opens his eyes again. It is a long sleek tail covered in mostly green scales. The lower his eyes travel the darker it gets. There is some blue waving through but its barely noticeable until further down, closer to the fin. There, the blue moves in visible streaks against the green to make a pretty contrast. The scales on his tail also travel upwards over his torso and arms where the blue is more visible again. Awkwardly turning around to inspect the fin on his back he notices that there are some tints of purple hidden between the scales, probably coming more forwards on the ends of the fin if his arms and tail are to be believed. Not that he can see without a mirror to check for certain.

Carefully moving his new appendages, he is surprised by how natural it feels. Even if his muscles don’t cooperate (not like he can blame them since they’ve never been used before) it still feels good. Almost… nice. Like this is the body that was meant for him all along.

Well either that or he is drugged.

Moving closer to the fin to inspect the pattern there he notices that its sharp at the end. Sharper than his favourite knife, yet still soft and delicate, unlike his favourite knife. It’s the perfect balance between the two. Moving again he slowly drifts above the seaweed.

That’s when he notices the creature near the cave entrance. With a tail. Just like him. Although he can’t make out much detail from the distance and bad lighting, he knows it’s almost covered in scales, although his look more firey coloured. Which means his theory was right and his are still growing. The creature moves with a grace that tells it grew up in the water, yet with a clumsiness that tells its younger than the usual kidnapper.

When it notices he is awake and watching, it slowly drifts towards him. Trying to get away, (he is in unknown waters after all) his fin makes the wrong move and he ends up going sideways. When there are only a couple feet separating them, it lifts its arm. Fear takes him over when he sees the claws coming towards him.

Trying more desperately to get away, he starts flipping his tail. The creature doesn’t look bothered though and only lays something on the ground before going back to the entrance.

Watching him.

After a lot of cursing and willing his tail to do what he wants it to he finally gets the hang of his tail. Movements still jerky and uncoordinated he carefully moves toward the things the creature laid down. Knowing instinctively that it won’t leave before seeing his reaction. When he sees it though, he is a bit shocked.

No strange, violent, or painful things.

No photos demanding information.

No, instead there are a few mussels and what looks like some different kinds of seaweed and kelp. When he looks up at the creature it is still staring at him. Not knowing what to do with it (is he supposed to eat that? Gross) he starts to move back.

That’s when the creature makes an angry noise. Not moving (or at least for so far as that is possible in the water) he looks up. The creature is moving from left to right. When he still doesn’t move it makes another frustrated noise. Trying to move further back gets him the third and slightly louder noise.

That’s when he looks back at the stuff it left on the cave floor for him. Or at least, he thinks it’s for him. Maybe he is being rude by leaving it there? Slowly he moves his hand towards it. The creature keeps staring at him but doesn’t make another noise. He slowly grabs the mussel closest to him.

It stops moving.

Almost like its waiting for something. (What if it’s poisoned?)

He takes another look and sights; it wouldn’t be his first time willingly getting poisoned. Well, looks like its mussel for dinner (or breakfast, it’s not like he has a clock around here somewhere). When he brings it to his mouth the creature moves a little closer.

Stilling all movement, he stares at it. Waiting for it to make a move (he is not fighting with his mouth full. Done that, never again). The creature blinks, waits, looks quickly around, only moving his eyes and notices he moved forward apparently without noticing because it moves backwards again. To the entrance of the cave. Almost nervously moving around know.

After a moment he slowly brings the mussel to his mouth again. Trying to eat it without making too much of a face, he quickly swallows. Almost like that is what the creature was waiting for, a small amount of the tension he didn’t know had been there disappears. After a while (and tree more mussels, so gross) the creature seems satisfied and disappears. Or at least moves further away.

After 15 minutes Stiles tries to make his way to the entrance. After some struggling with his tail it finally gets the message and his brand-new muscles start working. However, he barely reached the opening before the creature was back. Studying it from closer he notices its face and body looks a bit like a man’s, well, more like a boy’s actually. He has light blue, slitted eyes, black hair and a few scars spread over his body. His scales are mostly back with yellows and red intertwined, the colours becoming more apparent near the tail- and backfin. It looks like embers burning in the night.

The boy doesn’t look all that old.

When it starts making hissing and geckering noises Stiles quickly moves back. That seems to appease the boy as he quiets down after a while. Staring at him a few more minutes it moves away again. Appearing back in sight every few minutes, letting him know he can’t escape. With another sigh Stiles starts exploring the cave.

He has been through enough kidnappings by now to have a system. Know your surroundings, find out what your captor wants, figure out where you are, try to look for a way out etc. etc.

The cave is bigger than he first thought. Above him there is a small section of land covered in rock and moss. There is a small sunbeam worming its way through a crack at the top, giving just enough light to make out some of his surroundings. Under water, there is a small opening in the back that leads to another cave. This one smaller with walls covered in even more moss and seaweed. It looks cosy. What the hell is he thinking, since when is seaweed cosy! What the hell did that thing do to him. Well, besides turning him, obviously.

But, why? Why turn him? What would they (for surely there must be another one) gain from that?

That is how it goes for the next few days (hours, weeks? Where are clocks[cc1] when you need them?). After the fifth feeding, with a noticeable increase in the number of mussels, and decrease in other foods. He decides to try out the seaweed. Which tastes better than expected (not the red one with flowery leaf forms though). The dark green leafy ones are also great for chewing when he needs to distract himself for a while or is bored.

(He is always bored)

When the creature comes a little closer around feeding time (by the moon, he sounds like a zoo animal) and slowly extends his hand, Stiles does not move away. With tense muscles he watches the creature, trying to figure out what it wants. Why it now decided to change its usual motions.

Between its claws, there is a small wriggling fish. A living fish. He is going to have to eat a living thing since tailboy is not moving backward, instead extending his appendage even further. Slowly he moves his hand toward the fish. The moment he grabs it and the boy lets go, the fish seizes the opportunity to escape. However, before he can blink, the now empty hand flies towards it and grabs it again. Hitting the fish against the wall before offering it again.

With a gulp he grabs it the second time.

It is not moving now.

When fishboy keeps looking at him he slowly moves it towards his mouth. Taking a second to gather his courage he takes bite. A shivering goes through the creature and it starts geckering again. It almost sounds like it is making words this time. Either the fish tastes better than he thought it would, or he is just adapting to the water and his new form. He still avoids the head though, that goes a little too far for him.

The other seems satisfied though, and when he extends his arm with the remnants of the fish the boy accepts it and finishes it off.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #omc #i accidentely made my omc nice and now i have to make another #why did i make him nice #i like him though #so its oke

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carmenlire · 6 years

Text

Familiar Faces, Quiet Thoughts

read on ao3

Jace leans against the wall of the elevator, watching absently as the numbers rise. It’s early afternoon and he shivers a little, still cold from his trek here. It’s the tail end of January and New York is in fine form this time of year.

Hazily, he remembers the time he persuaded Alec to join him at the park across from the Institute. It had been one of the few times he’d ever known Alec to skip his training and they’d spent a few hours playing like the kids they never were.

It was one of his first memories of New York. When he’d first been taken in by the Lightwoods, he’d felt constantly on edge. He didn’t know anyone and from his first ten years, he’d assumed every step was a minefield waiting to explode.

Maryse and Robert had introduced him to a precocious Izzy and stoic Alec. Even so young, Alec had been serious, cautious. Jace hadn’t been so sure of him at first. He’d thought Alec a dreadful stick in the mud, really, and Jace shakes his head a little now at the memory.

Alec’s still a bit of a stick in the mud if he’s being honest with himself. His brother worries more than he should and his shoulders have carried weight that Jace knows he himself would have collapsed under.

Still, Alec was the one who showed Jace where the sweets were kept in the kitchen and he was the one who comforted Jace the first time he had a nightmare. He still remembers that night-- he hadn’t been in New York long and he’d woken up, hoarse from shouting and shivering with a cold sweat.

He’d been remembering one of his father’s lessons and even so young, Jace’s most notorious boogeyman had been Valentine, long before he knew the name.

Disoriented and afraid, his head had whipped up at the gentle touch on his shoulder. Alec had been staring at him in the way only his parabatai could-- dark eyes studying him with an intensity that was far too astute for someone so young.

That had cemented their friendship and all these years later, Jace still thanks Raziel regularly for bringing Alec into his life, for giving him the chance to learn the boy under that earnest gaze.

It's been a few years, but Jace has always been a little more introspective than he likes people to think. He’s carefully cultivated his image as a devil-may-care shadowhunter and he takes great pride in it. It keeps people at arm’s length and that’s always been his greatest wish.

Except for Alec of course, Jace concedes to himself.

Alec’s always been able to peer into Jace’s damned soul. As parabatai, it’s both infuriating and a blessing. But for all that Alec is intimately acquainted with Jace’s biggest demons, Jace knows Alec’s right back.

He figures he’s the only one who knew Alec’s tragic habit of self-flagellation, knew just how deep it ran, just how much it tainted Alec for the longest time.

He was the person who drew an iratze on Alec’s busted knuckles and bleeding hands. He’s the one who lay awake at night when Alec’s self-hatred and despair and futile fury washed over them both. He’s always been the one to stand beside Alec, steadfast and sure, even as he was helpless to stop his brother from breaking from the inside out.

The elevator slides open quietly and Jace pushes off from the wall, striding out towards the door to the Penthouse.

Isabelle had sent him over to get a file Magnus had on a specific species of water demon and while Jace had grumbled-- it was fucking cold outside-- he really hadn’t minded all that much. He was always a little more stuck in his head when the anniversary of his move came around and he’d welcomed the chance to leave the Institute on such a small errand.

He’s lived in New York for fifteen years and he still gets caught up sometimes in the City-- the crowds of people that had been jarring to a boy who had only known one other soul for his first decade, the contrasting smells that changed several times a block, the always changing scenery. It all called to him and Jace knows this is his home.

Really, Alec was home. Jace knows that Alec stretches himself thin-- to breaking-- for those he lets in and Jace has counted himself lucky to be one of those people for years. He’d never tell Alec so explicitly, but then they both know each other well enough to recognize the bond that isn’t merely a ritual or rite of passage but a part of themselves that will never come undone.

As Jace approaches Magnus and Alec’s front door, he feels the wards wash over him, prodding gently. He’ll never understand how but the wards have always accepted him with hardly a bother. The magic feels like a summer breeze and Jace wraps a hand around the door handle, pushing the door open wide.

He’s just set to yell an obnoxious greeting-- it’s what people expect after all and who is Jace to disappoint-- when he freezes, biting his tongue to keep the words in.

He barely dares to breath. Still holding the door, Jace feels something in him calm, like waves lapping at a silent shore.

It probably shouldn’t be so surprising but, then, Alec’s always held his cards close to the vest. Jace knows his brother likes to maintain his aloof, intimidating facade. Only a handful of people know Alec’s soft side-- that he can recite most of Shakespeare’s sonnets, has a weakness for flowers, and that he can be the most comforting, supportive person in the world capable of selfless forgiveness and love.

Jace knows all of that and he’s rolled his eyes more times than he can count at the fact that Alec hides all of that behind brooding eyes and a frowning mouth.

Not such a hardass now, are we, Jace thinks.

There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace and Jace can see the dusting of snow falling outside on the balcony. The loft smells like cinnamon and something he can’t quite identify, even if it is overwhelmingly familiar.

And there’s his brother wrapped around his home.

Magnus is laying on the couch, face turned away. Alec’s a long line over him. His face is pressed against Magnus’s neck, arms buried around Magnus’s middle between his back and the couch.

He’s wearing a hoodie that makes his face barely visible but Jace can hear the snores from here. They’re soft, muted against Magnus’s throat, and Jace wonders how Magnus manages to sleep so soundly.

For his part, Magnus has one hand flat against the bare skin of Alec’s back, resting low under the hoodie. His other arm is wrapped around Alec’s shoulders, pulling him closer even in sleep.

It’s an intimate position and one that Jace has never seen Alec in. Jace taps into the bond a little more deliberately and feels the calmness in Alec’s presence, the warm contentedness that feels like a spring morning and blooming sunflowers.

Jace watches the pair for long minutes, caught up in the clash between past and present. It makes him feel disoriented, a little unmoored. Oh, he’s well aware that Magnus and Alec share something special, something so intense that outsiders can’t even fathom the depth of feeling. He’s caught the edge of that crest-- when Magnus tells Alec he loves him, when Alec worries about Magnus’s magic depletion, when he catches a burst of emotion that he knows isn’t his but feels so strongly nonetheless.

Still. It makes Jace think back to all those days it was just the two of them-- Alec and Jace-- against the world. They’ve seen each other at their lowest, when they were both swamped in such despair and anger and desperation that it’s a wonder they made it out alive.

Jace can’t count the times he woke up, gasping, and was halfway to the training room-- or roof-- before he even woke up completely. He doesn’t know just how many nights he spent standing silent sentry as Alec dreamed-- his parabatai completely unaware of the person who kept watch, keeping the demons away.

Parabatai isn’t just a word. It’s an obligation, a responsibility that Jace feels in his very bones. As Jace watches Alec, sleeping in Magnus’s arms, face relaxed and posture boneless, he feels something in him shift.

He’s known for awhile now, but it’s different to see it. Jace is no longer Alec’s home, his safe place. They may still share a piece of their souls, but Alec’s given his heart to Magnus and Jace can feel the way everything in Alec reaches for his boyfriend, the way Alec draws such strength and happiness from this person neither of them ever saw coming.

Jace also sees, plain as day, the way Magnus seems to curve around Alec, opening himself up for Alec to burrow into. Their hearts are intertwined and Jace knows that bond is just as irrevocable as the parabatai connection.

No, Jace thinks. He will always be a harbor for Alec-- and he knows as well as he knows his own name that the same is true for Alec-- but his brother has found someone else.

Something else.

He’s found a home, a place to lay his heart and know without a doubt that it will be cared for, without reservation. He’s caught the looks lately, the worry and anticipation and hope and grief.

Jace doesn’t think anyone else has caught the way Alec’s been studying his surroundings. He doesn’t think anyone else has a clue to what Alec, ever impenetrable, has been considering.

But he has and Jace knows that Alec’s heart-- his soul-- will be taken care of long after Jace is nothing but dust and shadows in the City of Bones.

He settles, and with a deep breath, takes a step back. He won’t interrupt Magnus and Alec’s nap, their afternoon away from the outside world, doesn’t want to intrude on this private moment. Izzy can damn well wait for that report and he’s just set to turn and leave as silently as he entered when he freezes for the second time in as many minutes.

He doesn’t know how long, but Magnus has turned his head and is staring at him with a calm intensity that makes Jace feel sliced open.

The two of them study each other for a moment that feels stuck in time before Magnus slowly blinks. He smiles a little and Jace returns it with a sharp nod. He watches the absent way Magnus sweeps a thumb over Alec’s back and the way his brother shifts, just a little, and burrows deeper into Magnus with a noise of sleepy happiness.

Magnus tilts his head down and kisses the top of Alec’s head before closing his eyes and returning to sleep.

Jace shudders and swallows the lump in his throat as he takes his cue and leaves.

There was a time-- an eternity-- when Jace thought both he and Alec were doomed to hell. He never could have foreseen the man that makes Alec the best version of himself, the man that makes Alec dream, that gives him such peace and security.

Closing the door carefully, Jace heads back to the elevator lost in thought.

Alec had found his own home and Jace rests easy in the knowledge that his brother is safe and sound and loved as much as he deserves. He sinks into the happiness and muted joy that soaks into him through the bond and thanks the Angel that they’ve both found their way through the darkness.

No, Jace doesn't mind that he's no longer Alec's person-- not when his brother has found his soulmate. Really, it's all Jace could ask for, his parabatai's heart safe and sound. Alec doesn't feel like a maelstrom any longer and Jace can't remember the last time that he felt his brother coming undone, drowning in desperation and quiet despair.

It's Magnus and Alec against the world now and Jace couldn't be happier about it. Distantly, Jace hopes that he can find a similar happiness for himself one day but lives content in the knowledge that they'll both be just fine, regardless.

#my writing #familiar faces quiet thoughts #malec fic

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diningpageantry · 6 years

Text

Proximity

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343617/chapters/41048414

Chapter 4/11 of Of Wealth and Leisure

Word Count: 2080

Summary: A brief conversation leads to a long walk and leaves Sir Snow wanting more.

It takes me until the tail ends of August to finally take myself out on a walk around the gardens.

As tempting as they’ve been, observing them through my guest room windows felt fulfilling enough until now. As the summer slowly sinks into a muckier, more green season, I find myself growing disappointed that I didn’t take the effort to seek out the flowers. Therefore, I’m finding my way around the sprawling, well-kept garden of the Grimm-Pitch estate.

As I walk, I delve deeper into the mild insanity that's been creeping up upon me over the past few weeks. Every action of Mr. Pitch feels quite peculiar. Antagonistic, while also somewhat ones of attention seeking and perhaps partially of hopeful bickering. Part of me wonders where our rivalry is headed, as he does not seem overly invested in my destruction, but rather interested in how my downfall would lay out.

What that means, I’m not sure. I simply know that our destinies are intertwined somehow, but the way is uncertain.

I wish I could figure it out. If there were a way--a secret key or a hidden door--that could reveal answers to everything, then I’d give up my knight’s honor for that valuable knowledge. Mr. Pitch would mock me for that, telling me I made such a stupid decision for information that I don’t require. Nevertheless, I crave it. Isn’t that a requirement enough?

Stopping by a fountain, I rest to ponder and look out among the greenery.

All I can think of is Mr. Pitch.

Oh how unfair; a haunting of my mind in the worst possible way. Is it intentional on his part? Is he somehow responsible for my endless thoughts and dreams of him, some of which including compromising situations? Surely, those are based in deep hatred manifesting into peculiar nightmares.

Surely.

As I gaze out, I spot someone far off by the edge of the woodland. The person simply stands, leaning against a walking stick and staring out wistfully. Purely out of curiosity, I stand and brush off my jacket as I slowly begin to stroll over.

The figure grows in familiarity over the closing of the space; dark slicked hair and well tailored suit. He’s smoking a pipe, staring out into the trees wordlessly as smoke slowly rises from the front of him. It’s devilishly handsome, and overwhelmingly mysterious. It’s as if he were looking for trouble..

“I suppose those vampire myths aren’t quite myths at all,” I joke, walking up behind him with my hands tucked into the pockets of my trousers. He whips around, narrowing his eyes at me for a lingering second before his body rotates back towards the trees.

“I didn’t quite think you occupied yourself with such invasive nonsense, Sir Snow,” he says back. While he barks it in a typical, condescending tone, there’s the slightest hint of sadness in his voice.

My foot lands down, snapping a twig. He flinches, but doesn’t turn.

Frozen in time and staying behind him, I watch the smoke trickle up into the air as he peers out into the slowly swaying leaves handing to unsteady branches. “They’re all an unfair commentary. My injury shouldn’t be mocked as so.”

My heart picks up guiltily, mouth hanging open as he bares himself and his expressions to me. As if time were slowing, his body rotates back to half-facing me as he stares. If he were staring at my chest, it’d explode.

“I-I didn’t realize,” I blubber, hand flying up to run across my jaw and chin as I rub. “I’d assumed they were only jokes…”

“Jokes can be harmful.” He shifts his weight between feet, eyes locking back forward.

Hesitantly, I step closer and wait for him to respond with a biting remark, but he simply stays silent. Fearfully, I continue onwards until I’m standing beside him and overlooking his profile. He doesn’t dare move his gaze, steadily observing the land in front of him.

“The injury was unfortunate enough to be so close to my neck; I should have bled out, if it weren’t for quick attention. I’m aware of my scars, but they only serve as reminders to be careful with others.”

My eyes follow the rise and fall of his pipe, breath struggling to come out normally. A swirling anxiety settles in my throat, lodging it and making me nauseous over my accusations. “I’m not entirely sure the rumors are based on your injury, Mr. Pitch. Rather, I think they’re based on your appearance.”

Moments pass before his lip curls up and eyes fall shut. “What do you mean by that, Sir Snow?”

“I mean,” I quickly try to cover, “your… appearance. It follows that of classic bloodsucker’s tales. Not that you look like you drink blood, but rather your…” Will I get murdered if I continue? “Stature and air that you hold yourself in.”

“Stature?”

“I--your-”

His laugh cuts me short. “Stop wasting air, Snow, or else there won’t be some left for the rest of us.” He offers his pipe, and I politely decline. “You can stop your entire explanation. I understood your intent long ago, I just enjoy watching you struggle.”

His confession hurts in an odd way, as if I wished he enjoyed something else about me.

We stand in silence, heads turned away from each other as I gather the courage to break our invisible walls. They’re much more reinforced than I’d imagined; anything to get through to him would take an axe, a flame, and patience.

I’m terrible with patience.

“I… never quite got a full tour of the grounds,” I start, eyes dragging down to my feet as my boot digs into the mildly muddy ground in front of us. “For months I’ve been wishing to see the farmland, but instead I’ve been left to watch from afar. It’s quite a pity.”

He dares a glance at me as I urge him, face open and welcoming to his attention.

“Perhaps I could spare a small amount of time showing you the land.” He sounds reluctant, but not protesting.

That’s all I need.

He taps his walking cane to the ground, offering an extended elbow as his classic brow raise greets me. I take it without pause, hands resting against the stiff fabric of his suit jacket.

Slowly, we make our way around the garden. For once, Mr. Pitch takes an opportunity to speak without directing it in hatred towards me. He rather steers his words in the direction of praise and sharing of fondness in his memories, rambling on about the sprawling lavender he used to pick and dry with his mother at a young age. While it causes his smile to falter, he continues on, going on a winded rant about the prickles of roses and the unfairness of their romantic association.

At last, we take the path down to the fields, yet he insists we take the walk slowly while he speaks on. Childhood stories, historical facts, and family tradition, all rolled up into his continuous stream of consciousness. By the time we reach the end, I believe I could write a very short book on the recounts of his family’s involvement with local produce in the past century.

As we walk through, he stops briefly by the apple orchard and picks off a single apple, dusting it on his jacket before handing it to me without a pause to allow me to thank him. Thus, we continue while I eat, taking a path towards their vineyard. He speaks highly of it all, mentioning that he would run down to the farming fields as a child with his nanny and try to help the harvest, but would be stopped quickly in his tracks. By the expression set on his face, I believe he always quite wished he could join them.

Upon our return to the garden, he releases my arm and clearly avoids any sort of eye contact as he tips his head in a nod and strolls wordlessly back into the manor. Thus, I’m left with with the feeling of sinking in my legs and heart, watching him walk away after he’d been so unmistakably close. Briefly, I consider what possible mistakes I could have done, but a quick peering at my pocketwatch snaps me back towards reality.

Of course. It’s nearly dinner.

As in, he and I sit silently at as much of a distance that a dinner table will provide, eating in a stilled atmosphere. It's such a stark contrast to what we had before.

I retreat to my room, I look over my figure in the mirror and nervously thread my fingers through my curls, breath trickling out in a nervous exhale. I can’t manage to bring myself to a plausible explanation to my anxieties around him beyond it being my fear that he’ll attack me. Except that’s no longer quite at the front of my mind. Instead, now I think of how he looks in the very slowly sinking daylight, or how my palms grow moist when he dares a glance towards me.

Peculiar.

The dinner bell chimes, yet I take my time to join. Once I do, I take notice that Mr. Pitch’s head raises as I enter the room, following me to my seat directly across from him. He doesn’t smile, but then again, why would he?

We don’t speak, nor do we truly meet each other’s stolen looks, unless it's to challenge them. We remain distant, yet vaguely longing (for, what I suspect, are answers).

I can’t take this unspoken back and forth. I refuse to leave the distance unaddressed, especially after the events of today.

There we stood, in the center of his family’s private vineyard with no workers in sight for the last 10 minutes that we’d been strolling. He could have easily taken his brief moment of the unexpected upper hand to end me right there, amongst a claim to his family’s power, but he didn’t. Instead, he ran a hand along the plump fruit hanging among the vines and said to me (and me only) that he’d run barefoot along the rows of wine grapes. His privacy, while not as intimate as any admission of feelings would ever be, felt as close as skin contact.

As we routinely dismiss ourselves from dinner, I catch the soft hem of his sleeve when he reaches the grand staircase. I feel him tense, breath audibly catching in the air as he startles and turns. As if a trigger was pulled, he snaps back to his tight-lipped sneer.

“Do you mind, Snow?” He’s a snapping turtle again; defensive and hard shelled.

I stand my ground, jaw setting as I lock my eyes onto his stormy glare. “I haven’t quite explored the local trails.”

He snorts at that, loosening up as his chin tilts up, quite literally looking down upon me. “I don’t see how that information is necessary for me in any capacity.”

My wrist snaps down as I let go in frustration. I’ll admit, my anger flairs enough to startle Mr. Pitch once again. At least he doesn’t run now. “I wish to have someone experienced show me the way. Someone who won’t treat me as a higher up, even if they should be leading me around.”

Scoffing my way seems to be one of his favorite things to do. “Are you asking if I wish to accompany you on a horseback journey through the countryside? Do you wish me to request that Cook Pritchard throws together a picnic lunch to bring as well?”

We stare at each other in tense silence for moments, simply breathing until I shrug.

“Yes. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I wish for you to lead me.” My voice drops, wavering in the slightest in fear that someone nearby may hear me. I’m not fully sure of what I’m scared of--rivals can interact--yet the mild recurring case of my shortness of breath remains.

He doesn’t flinch, analyzing me in his brief once over as I stand pitifully one step below him. He could easily shove me down.

He doesn’t.

“There’s a storm rolling in,” he states, pulling back from the space we’d been set in as he rolls his shoulders. “Once it passes in its entirety, then we may go. Is that fair to you?”

My lips curve up, stretching out my cheeks in perhaps the most genuine smile I’ve had since my arrival at the residency. “More than so.”

#carry on #fanfiction #snowbaz #fanfic #fic #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #of wealth and leisure #victorian au #im sorry for such a short chapter but i swear ! the rest get longer from here on out #also hehe it really picks up next chapter #as in something happens and oh boy ! be prepared!

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fangirlhaley · 7 years

Text

Broken Halos

Characters: Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester

Summary: Some scars will last a lifetime and they’re always the worst ones to remind us of our mistakes. What could have been. What we’ve lost.

Word Count: 2,304

Enjoy.

If you REALLY want to pain yourself, here is the song that the title came from.

Seen my share of broken halos Folded wings that used to fly They've all gone wherever they go Broken halos that used to shine

Dean knew that being a hunter had its consequences. He had stayed in his fair share of shitty motel rooms. Had his fair share of fast food consumed in the Impala that made his health decline with every bite, Sam claimed. He experienced loss. He experienced pain. He experienced regret. While hunting had its consequences though, it also had its rewards. He saw the country with his brother Sam. He saved people from the monstrous beings that roamed the earth. He met Cas.

Castiel was an angel of the lord who saved Dean from the fiery pits of hell. Dean had the scar to prove it, a handprint that was etched into his shoulder. A constant reminder of the bond that the two shared. A bond that no one could ever come between, no matter how hard they tried. Cas helped on hunts occasionally and his abilities always came in handy when the boys were in situations that they had no hope in. The angel would come in, fighting off the bad guys like a cheesy action movie hero. Dean was grateful, but it was hard for the older Winchester to ever show his feelings. It always had been hard for him to show his feelings. Dean was thankful for so many things that had happened over the years, good and bad, but there were things that he wished he could forget. The day Cas left was one of those things.

It was a hunt. A simple hunt. The brothers had been tailing on some signs of a demon outbreak in Sioux Falls. It was the usual. Cattle mutilations, mysterious smells of sulfur and citizen acting out in strange and mysterious ways. Dean was confident, and Sam was too. Cas was along for the ride and Dean’s heart couldn’t be happier to have his angel by his side.

Cas stared out the window at the passing scenery as Dean drove the Impala down the desolate road. Sam drifted off to sleep against the cool window in the backseat, his arms folded into his body as if to keep himself warm. The only sounds were from the classic rock station that softly played from the Impala’s radio and the hum of the engine as Dean drove. He found his free hand resting on the seat near Cas’ and eventually the older Winchester intertwined their fingers together. It wasn’t something out of the normal. The shared hand brushes, the glances across the table in the library at the bunker, the hand holding when one of them needed a little reassuring. Though neither of them outright said it, they loved each other. Cas had made it known to Dean multiple times, Dean just had a hard time admitting his feelings. He had a hard time admitting his feelings to anyone.

“It is going to be fine, Dean.” Castiel assured him, keeping his gaze out the window but squeezing Dean’s hand gently as they drove. The angel finally looked over to him, giving him a small smile of reassurance.

“I know, we’ve done this plenty of times,” Dean sighs. “I just never know when a hunt is going to be my last. Every day it gets closer and closer to the end it feels like.”

“I wouldn’t let them hurt you. You know that.” Castiel mumbled a little and Dean let go of his hand to let him focus on the road.

And Cas was right. He wouldn’t let anything hurt Dean. He wouldn’t let anyone, or anything so much as lay a hand on Dean. He was Dean’s protector and he was expected to do his job. While this was his greatest quality, it was also his tragic flaw. The one thing that everyone has that makes them weak. Cas’ weakness was Dean and Dean’s well being and it was obvious.

The trio made it to, yet another, shitty motel that they would be staying in for the week and Dean woke Sam up from his slumber so they could get the bags from the car moved into the motel room. The room smelled of beer and smoke and Castiel made a face as he walked in behind Dean. It wasn’t much but it would do for the week. Sam slung his bag to the floor before sitting down on the bed.

“I’m starving,” He mumbled. “I’ll go get us some food.” He offered with a smile as he took the key to Baby from Dean. He lectured the younger Winchester for probably the millionth time about how priceless the car was and to treat her with care. Sam dismissed his lecturing with the wave of his hand as he left out the front door.

“I’m exhausted,” Dean let out a yawn as he sat down on the edge of the bed. The man struggled to keep his eyes open but knew he needed to at least until Sammy returned.

“You should sleep, Dean.” Cas said from his spot in the desk chair across the room. “I’ll keep watch. Sleep.” He said before turning his attention to the window. The angel moved the curtains out of the way a bit to look out into the desolate parking lot. Dean didn’t want to sleep, afraid of what might happen in his state of slumber, but at the same time he was exhausted, and a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Eventually, the older Winchester was cuddled up in the musty motel blankets while Castiel sat in the chair across the room to keep watch. He didn’t need to sleep but watching Dean sleep was one of his favorite things to do. Castiel loved the way his chest slowly and delicately rose and fell with each breath he took. His lips slightly parted and his emerald green eyes closed to the light of the world. Sometimes Dean would let out a soft snore and other times he would sleep silently and peacefully. Either way, Cas loved to watch him. So that’s what he did as he waited for Sam to arrive with food for Dean.

It was around 11:30 when the knock on the door came and Dean was still fast asleep. Castiel stood, assuming the knock was Sam who needed help with the take out that he brought from a restaurant down the street. Instead of being greeted though by the younger Winchester, Castiel’s blue eyes were met with coal black ones that stood at the door and eyed the hunter who was asleep in the bed in the room. By instinct at this point, Castiel pulled out his blade from the tan trench coat that he adorned, and he took a swing at the demon.

When the lamp sitting by the door crashed to the motel carpet and shattered, Dean was pulled out of his sleep and he sat up in bed. The room was a mess and he wondered why he hadn’t woken up sooner. His eyes drifted to the curtain that were shredded and the broken chair that was laying in the corner by the air conditioner. Cas’ chair. Cas. Where was Cas? Dean frantically kicked the blankets from his body, calling out for the angel and starting to make his rounds around the room. The hunter found Castiel by the window, laying in the rubble of the broken chairs and weak like an injured animal that had gone off to hide to pass away in peace. Dean rushed to his side quickly, kneeling beside the angel and lifting his head up gently. His blue eyes were closed, and Dean felt some tears start to form in his own green eyes.

“Cas?” He managed to choke out, slapping his cheek gently to wake him up. “Cas, please.” Dean practically begged. He prayed, and he prayed hard. To who, he didn’t know. Whoever would listen and bring back his angel. Castiel coughed, his eyes opening partially, and Dean quickly repositioned the man in his arms. “Cas. Cas hey.” He said, forcing a smile onto his worrisome face. “Cas stay with me okay? It’s going to be okay.” Dean said and picked up the angel, laying him down on the bed that Dean had once occupied himself. Castiel was weak and it was obvious, but Dean didn’t want to admit it. He knew that the angel would heal himself. Everything would be fine. Everything would go back to normal.

Right?

“Angel….angel blade….,” Castiel coughed out and Dean frowned even deeper.

“What?” He asked and shook his head in protest. “Cas, you’re going to be fine, okay? Remember what you told me in the car? Everything is going to be okay. It always is okay.”

But Dean knew that it wasn’t okay. Not this time. Not from an angel blade wound. Cas’ complexion was slowly going from vibrant and lively to cold and empty. Dean didn’t want to admit that he would see it, but he could. Where was Sam? He would know what to do. Dean didn’t. Dean never knew what to do. Sure, he read the lore books and he researched just as much as Sam but, Sam always seemed to know more. Dean chalked it up to the college education and to him that was nothing to compete with. He didn’t know what to do so he did all he could. All he could do was hold Castiel and try to comfort him.

“Cas, it’s going to be okay.” He mumbled and tried his best to not cry in front of the angel that was cradled in his arms.

“Dean, no…” Cas mumbled and tried to push the man away. Dean didn’t listen though and he kept the withering angel held close to his body for comfort.

“Just relax. Sammy will be here soon, he’ll know what to do.” Dean frowned and pushed some of Castiel’s hair away from his forehead. “it’s going to be okay.”

“Dean, No.” Castiel repeated and tried to push himself away from the hunter’s body and Dean was confused.

“Dammit, Cas! Just let me help you!” Dean choked out, afraid of what was to come. “Why do you always have to be like this!” He yelled out of fear and anger. Castiel only continued his attempts at pushing his body away from Dean’s grasp.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you, Dean.” Cas frowned and pushed his hand hard against Dean’s chest. The hunter’s grip on the angel though was tight and he swore that Cas wouldn’t leave his presence. He swore that he would keep him close to his body and comfort him in his time of need.

“Cas, you’re the one that’s hurt.” Dean pointed out but he was oblivious to what the angel was saying. “You’re not hurting me.”

“I’m not hurting you yet, Dean. But I will. I swear I will. Just let go…” He mumbled out and his blue eyes were starting to feel heavy. “Dean let go…” He demanded, pushing with all of his strength to get the hunter away from him but it was too late. Dean felt a hot burning on his skin and yelped in pain as a bright and blinding light filled the room.

Looking down at Castiel in his arms caused Dean to break down. If only he hadn’t fallen asleep. He would have been able to fight off whatever broke in and was stronger than his angel was. Cas was gone. It was obvious as his body had gone weak in Dean’s arms. He fought back his tears, looking down at the angel as he laid him on the frumpy bed sheets.

Dean’s skin burned hot and it pained him to even move a bit. He stood up, making his way to the bathroom to look in the mirror to find out where his pain was coming from. He tried to get the image of Cas slipping away in his arms out of his mind but the image kept revisiting himself. Dean turned the light on in the dingy bathroom, starring in horror at his reflection in the mirror. As if the image of Cas wasn’t enough to haunt him every day, his skin was blistered and red in the shape of feathered wings. Cas’ wings. The rest of the shadow that didn’t scar Dean was left on the headboard of the bed as well as the blankets and the wall next to the bed. Dean frantically rubbed the marks, trying to get them to leave his skin. He didn’t want the reminder. The reminder that he had failed yet again. He didn’t have a choice though and suddenly he realized that was why Castiel was trying to push him away. He was stained more than what he already was. Marked by the death of someone he loved unconditionally. Someone he would never be able to bring back or replace. He felt the tears again starting to flow down his face, choking on his own tears as he continued to rub at the marks left on his arms and his chest. Dean slid down the wall that sat perpendicular to the mirror, pulling his knees to his chest and crying into them.

He thought about the past. He thought about the forgotten words. He thought about the missed chances. He thought about how demons and other monsters must laugh at his expense, being forced to walk the Earth with a daily reminder of his lost love.

But most of all, he thought about how he never told Cas that he loved him.

Angels come down from the heavens Just to help us on our way Come to teach us, then they leave us And they find some other soul to save

#dean x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #dean x cas #deancasfic #deancas fic #dean and castiel #dean winchester fic #castiel fic #supernatural #spn #spn fic #supernatural fic #destiel #destiel fic

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