#(all the chins god help me) and it just makes you sigh wistfully because None Of This Was Necessary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelz-dust · 3 years

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masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll.

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group.

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share.

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head.

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look.

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up.

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase.

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win.

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.”

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files.

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth.

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds.

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat.

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space.

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink.

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs.

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon.

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in.

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now.

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him.

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face.

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head.

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard.

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again.

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner.

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries.

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time.

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door.

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

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gingerbread spice latté | stuart twombly

word count; 7629

summary; stuart is counting on a little bit of a festive miracle to get what he really wants for christmas.

notes; none, really. nothing to say here.

warnings; none. not a one.

If there was anything that Stuart hated, it was the chalkboards outside of the little coffee shop that he called his place of work. He hated the way the signs always seemed to look sloppy when he did them, and he hated balancing on a ladder - especially in the snow - and he particularly hated the way the chalk marks seemed to get everywhere, all over his clothes in stains and on his face, and drying out his fingertips and the feel of it on his skin. He had a lot of negative feelings about chalkboards, so, yeah, he definitely hated decorating the chalkboards.

If there was anything that Stuart loved, though, it was you. He was completely and utterly infatuated with you, he couldn't help it, not when you looked so insanely adorable as you scowled at a pile of knotted Christmas lights in your hands, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the counter. He’d helped you drag the tree you��d delivered three days ago into the back corner earlier, stabbing himself on a pine needle and almost choking on his breath when you’d rubbed your thumb over the spot on his index finger while cradling his hand to make it better.

The thing was, you’d been his best and closest work colleague for three years now, he’d formed a little crush on you from the very second that you had walked in two summers ago spelling like coconuts and mangos, and ordered an iced tea, before noting the ‘help wanted’ sign pinned up behind him, and pulled a CV out of your purse with an excited grin. You’d been all but hired form the moment you’d shaken hands with the boss, the interview being a formality, and just a week later, you’d been putting on the navy blue apron with the company logo stitched onto it and joining him behind the counter.

He’d kept it in control until now, because up until a month ago, you’d been in a relationship, a long-term one, and he'd been able to find a clear line and he had a great ability not to cross it. You didn’t stay late after the close-up shifts to have a drink with him, and he didn’t tempt himself into growing closer to you by talking to you outside of work. You were just the cute barista he saw four times a week. But, then you’d been single, and you’d started staying behind after work to have a coffee with him, and let him walk you home as it grew darker into the winter, and you’d even started messaging him outside of work. ‘Friending’ one another on Facebook had led to chatting, which was exchanging numbers, and then there were the times you were bored, or he was, and you’d spend hours on the phone just talking.

Since then, he’d been in deep. That was exactly how he found himself in his current situation, watching as you mumbled to yourself and huffed as you undid the lights, looping them in untangled trails around yourself as you went. Maybe he leaned a little too far to see you, maybe he just wanted to get a better look at your face as you sat illuminated by the fairy lights you’d already strung up along the counter that made you glow like an angel, because one moment he’d been writing ‘Christmas Specials - only $4’ on the sign over the door and watching you wistfully, and then next he’d been tumbling unsteadily on the ladder and landing on the snow, head cracking against the concrete as he groaned, thankful for the layer of icy flakes that had cushioned his fall somewhat, even if he had hit the ground hard enough that his vision had gone black for a second, and was still spotting slightly.

His head was spinning, and the second it cleared, you were leaning over him, wide eyes and distressed expression on your face as you knelt beside him, and despite having the breath punched from his lungs with the fall, he was now breathless for an entirely new reason. Heat rose to his cheeks, enough to melt the snow that was landing on his face as he tried to sit up, feeling your fingers snake around to cup the back of his head as you helped him up, shuffling back to sit on your legs as you contained to kneel beside him.

“Oh my God, Stu!” Warm breath was coming out in pants in the cold afternoon air, and his embarrassment only increased. “Are you okay?”

He groaned again, the pain of a nod making him wince, and he paused for a second to clear it, feeling the throbbing pain in the back of his skull getting worse. Your fingers were still within his dark tresses, tracing lightly over his scalp, and he hissed under his breath as the tips brushed across the sore spot on his head. “‘M going to be fine. I promise.”

“That is gonna’ leave a nasty bump. The one day you don’t wear your beanie is the day you could’ve used your extra head protection.” He couldn't help by laugh at your words, hating the way a spike of pain shot along his spine from his skull as he did.

“I know, I know.”

“How’d it happen?” You were staring at him instantly now, your hand slipping down from his head to sit on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against his neck each time you moved it, and he wasn’t sure if you even knew what you were doing, but you made his mind stutter to a complete halt, blank of any coherent thought as he stared at you.

“Just, uh, distracted. Slipped, I guess. Icy.” He gestured a hand around himself vaguely, hating the way he couldn’t even form real sentences, and you smirked at him, nodding your head.

“Yeah, icy.” You were teasing him, he knew you were, but he couldn't even be mad in the same way he’d be mad at someone else, because as you smiled at him, a glint in your eye and a sweet looking taunt that made him weak, all for him, he just shrugged, grinning back at you. You stood up, hands shaking a little as you brush the tip of your nose, rubbing it to bring heat back to your face as you began to chill, and when you brought it to his attention, he realised just how cold it was, sitting in the mounds of snow. You brushed yourself off, wet marks along your legs from where you’d been perched in the ice, and held your hands out to him. “Let’s get you up and inside. C’mon.”

He didn’t hesitate, hands slipping into your own, and he held on tightly, letting you pull him to his feet before he was brushing himself down of the ice and following you into the building, the bell above the door chiming as the two of you entered, warmth encasing him as he did, and a tingling spread along his skin. The smell of freshly ground coffee, and all the different sweet and spiced syrups that had been bought in to match the drinks, as well as the slightly sweet smell of herbal teas in the background.

You led him through to the back, sitting him down on the boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and he popped the buttons on the front of his coat, pushing it down his shoulders as he watched you disappear. When you came back, you had a towel wrapped around a clump of ice, scooped fresh from the ice machine for frozen coffees and teas, and he reached his hand out for it, before you bypassed him. Instead of stopping before him and handing it over, you stepped up between his parted legs, bring a hand around to the back of his head to press it to the sore spot gently, and while it hurt for a split second, it felt like the patch was on fire, and he was relieved at the cooling pressure, letting out a deep sigh.

He fell forwards, he couldn't help it, forehead pressed to the soft flesh of your stomach through your jumper, and you chuckled, his head bobbing a little as you did, before your other hand was coming up to play with his hair. It was slightly damp, he could tell from the way it stuck to your fingers, but he wasn’t all that surprised; actually, he wouldn't be surprised if he got a chill from going out to do the signs in the snow, but someone had to do it today, and he wasn’t going to let it be you.

He shifted, chin resting on your stomach instead, and you moved his hair away from his forehead, offering him a little smile as he stared up at you. “You’re looking at me from the worst possible angle.”

“You look great.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes, and he snorted a little at the way your face screwed up.

“Like an angel.” This made you really laugh, deep and full-bodied, and he wrapped his hands around the backs of your legs. Large palms spreading out over the backs of your knees, pulling you a little closer and he didn’t miss the way your breath hitched and your eyes widened a little. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid, he was well-aware of the way things had been developing between the two of you, he knew you had some kind of feelings for him, he just didn’t know if you were ready for them, only a few months out of a relationship that had lasted years, and he was more than happy to wait for you if you weren’t. “A Christmas angel. My angel.”

“How hard did you hit your head again, Twombly?”

He rolled his eyes, it was his turn to laugh, but you didn’t back away from him, bringing your hand down to place the melting ice pack down on the side as he stood, towering over you now, hands sliding up from your thighs to your waist, a respectable place, no matter how much he wished it was a little lower, a grip just a little tighter, a little more intimate. “Not that hard, I swear. But, it doesn’t mean that it’s not how I feel. You really are an angel.”

Your own hands were on him now, too. Sitting lightly on his biceps, nails dragging against his skin lightly through the cotton of his shirt and he shuddered slightly under your grazes. He could smell the perfume you wore, a seasonal one, spices and berries that you swapped out with the seasons and he felt intoxicated by it already.

“A very pretty angel, might I add.”

“Yeah?” You grinned now, and he could taste the gingerbread-flavoured coffee on your breath still, the drink you’d been sipping on all day, a slow crowd and so you’d busied yourself with last-minute Christmas decorations. The snow had been a blessing, the cold weather and icy temperatures had ushered in large crowds who sought out hot drinks and winter aesthetics, and the two of you had barely any time to set up for the Christmas celebrations. Now, though, as the snow came down in thick storms from fluffy clouds, you had a day of quiet and calm.

He watched as you leaned in, the tip of your nose bumping his own, and he swallowed thickly, his nerves taking over, but he was quick to steady them, trying to soothe his racing heart. “The prettiest, sweetheart.”

Just as he’d garnered the bravery to close that gap, the ringing of the bell at the front door shocked through the air, a startling noise that clamoured in his ears and made you jump back with a little squeak. His eyes went wide, body stiffening and heat was crawling up his cheeks. The same look he was sure was reflected on his own face was present on yours; a little embarrassed, a little flustered, and totally caught off guard, before you were shrinking away from him, a sweet smile on your lips as your hands slid to find his, squeezing reassuringly.

“That’s a, uh, customer.”

You grinned, entertained by his awkwardness once again, and you picked the ice pack back up, pressing it into his hand as you nodded your head. “That it is. I got it, you put that pack back on. Hope we didn’t break that smarty-pants brain of yours.”

With that, you were stepping away from him, turning your back on him with a final cheeky smile, and disappearing out front. Your voice rang out a second later, followed by the fake-laughter he knew you offered up to those who made crappy jokes about he fun names of all of the coffees, before you wee switching on machines, the coffee-grinding drowning out your voice, and he sighed, unable to stop the smile taking place on his face as he shook his head to himself.

He waited a while longer, hearing the bell ding a handful more times, hearing your cheery voice greet them and take orders, before machines were whirring into life, dulling moments later to reveal the sound of the cash register dinging and then the bell was signalled again as they left. When the throbbing in his skull eventually gave in, and he was just left with a slightly sensitive patch on the back of his head that was raised up in a firm and angry bump he was sure would come to cause struggle later that night when he got in bed, he finally ventured back into the main shop again.

He searched for you, concern flicking over his features for only a second, before you were popping out from behind the Christmas tree, a box of ornaments under your hands, and he could see the fairy lights already strung within the branches, yet to be turned on at the socket. You caught his eye, a sweet smile pulling at your lips, before he took tentative steps over to you, holding his hands out to retrieve the cardboard box in your hands.

You let him have it, and he held it steadily for you, following you in circles around the tree until he was dizzy, but you were beginning to be happy with the placements of the colour scheme and the ornaments put up among the branches. It was domestic, far too domestic for his liking, and he couldn't help the way his mind wandered.

He was picturing you setting up a slightly smaller tree in the corner of his apartment, wearing one of his jumpers and a pair of leggings, the fluffy socks he got you as a gift every year, sipping eggnog and singing to Christmas music the way you did when the songs came on over the radio, interspersed with the regular hits that played on loop. He pictured getting to come up behind you, arms around your waist, kissing at your cheek until your face screwed up and you turned to kiss him properly. He was dreaming about Christmas day, not needing an excuse to kiss you, cold days where you’d snuggle up a little closer to him in bed, and on the couch, and getting to hold your hand when you wandered along in the snowy streets with him. He wanted to sip hot chocolate with you, and take you home to meet his parents and all of his siblings as his mom showed you baby photos from the albums, an-

“You remember our first Christmas?”

He snapped back out of his reverie, a blush crawling up his cheeks as you looked at him expectantly, and he wondered idly if you’d been talking this whole time and he’d just missed it all, but he only nodded, a smile taking place in his face as he thought about it. “Yeah, ‘course I do. How could I forget? It was a nightmare.”

He told no lie, it truly had been disastrous. It wasn’t the same kind of icy but dry chill that surrounded you both now, this year was a perfect white Christmas, just enough snow to keep everyone inside, three days of peaceful quiet as the flakes fell down from the sky. That had been a weirdly warm but snowy Christmas. The snow was melting when it hit the ground, muddy ice and slushy trails now that were slippy, the floors were constantly wet and needed to be mopped.

There had been angry customers, frustrated with the weather that snapped when the machines took too long to grind beans, or their order was a little off, or they just didn’t like the prices. The pair of you had been run off of your feet, absolutely exhausted by the end of it all, and more than happy to shut up shop at the end of the 23rd, not to return until the 27th.

“Last year wasn’t so bad.”

“Until I burned the gingerbread biscuits, and we had to call the fire department.” He felt his face screw up again as you laughed, souring as he remembered the burnt spice scent that had lingered around for almost a full week afterwards, and the way he was certain he was going to lose his job when the boss had found out, but he’d just about been spared, on a probationary period. Truly, he wouldn't have been all torn up about it if he’d lost the job, he could easily get another, but he would’ve been begrudging to lose out on all the time he got to spend with you.

“That was very funny. For me, anyway.” He stuck his tongue out childishly at your teasing, dropping the box in his arms down when the final decorations were up on the tree, and letting out a satisfied little sigh as the two of you looked up at your masterpiece. “Holy shit, it looks awesome. I should be a professional Christmas tree decorator. Is that a thing?”

“Probably. For, like, the really rich people who have those fancy trees that always just seem to show up in the living room in movies.” You grinned, shaking your head and gathering up all the boxes and storage, pushing it away towards the counter with your foot. “You’d have to make all your money at Christmas. Think you can fit in that many trees?”

“Nah. I’ll just do, like, three trees a day but charge a grand each time. That’s how good my tree decorating skills are.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, watching as you found the right plug, flicking on the socket as you scoffed.

“What, you don't think my tree-skills are that good?” He shrugged, and you raised your brows, plugging the device in, lowering the lighting of the room a little bit with the switch on the wall, and admiring the glow of the lights as they all came to life. He had to admit, it was stunning. Warm lights were reflecting from gold and silver decorations, the star at the top seeming like it was haloed by the light below, and it brought every other decoration in the little shop together. “How about now?”

You came back over, standing beside him, lifting his arm for you to tuck yourself under, and he chuckled at the action, fingers running gently along your arm as you settled yourself into his side, trying to steady his racing heart as he did. “Okay, fair enough. This would look epic on your tree portfolio.”

“I knew it.”

He only rolled his eyes, leaving the conversation at that, tipping his head to the side a little to rest his cheek atop the crown of your head. Maybe it wasn’t the way he'd daydreamed it, but he was happy to wait until that time came around. You stood there for a while, just like that, and he was more than happy to, just holding you, and letting your fingers play with the front of his jumper, tangling lightly and brushing hard enough that he could feel it all the way through to his skin.

“Been a good two hours since we had any customers, y’know.” He startled a little, the silence broken, and he looked over to the clock, noting you were right, having become distracted with your tree decorating and reminiscing, and the light outside was beginning to fade away.

“I think, if we closed up a little early, nobody would mind.”

You turned, a little glint in your eyes as you looked at him, raising a hand to pat at his cheek with a smirk, and he slapped your hand away. “I like the way you think, Twombly.”

He followed you as you went, the two of you more than used to the routine you’d got through as you began the closedown of the little coffee shop. He was on trash and machine duty, he’d empty all the filters and change all the bins and shut everything down after setting it off on its cleaning cycles. You went through the fridges, making sure every bottle was closed and counted, writing up the stock sheets, and going upstairs to the storage rooms to get more of anything you’d run out of during the day, before wiping down all of the tables.

Just like that, the two of you were off. Working in a perfect harmony with one another, humming along to Christmas music as you worked. You disappeared for a little while, and he was left alone, beginning to get everything finished, and stacking up the various trash bags in the corner, all but one machine now on their cleaning cycle, sterile tablets put into each to make sure they were thoroughly disinfected, and he couldn't help but notice how good the tree the pair of you had set up actually looked as the light began to fade. Only ten minutes until the actual closing time of the shop, and if there was one huge benefit to the winter, it was that people never came out as late.

Summer brought groups of teens who were too young to drink coming to the coffee shop to meet up, drinking iced teas and thinking they ruled the world, and he hated the backchat he got whenever he had to kick them out at closing time in order to be able to gather up the fold-away chairs that lay outside. In the winter, they didn't even bother putting those chairs out. Placing two of the tallest mugs under the spouts of the final remaining machine, he set it off, a generous dash of gingerbread syrup in the bottom of one. He made a jug of hot milk, foaming at the top, and watching as they began to fill up, hearing the creaks of the floorboards over his head as you moved around the stock room and gathered what you needed.

Only moments later, you were making your way down the stairs, uneven steps, before backing your way into the room and huffing, placing the full crate down onto the counter and blowing a piece of air back and out of your face.

“Can we make a deal?”

“Depends on the deal.” He smirked at the way your face hardened a little, even though both of you already knew that he would say ‘yes’, for you.

“Will you put away the last boxes of unused Christmas things if I take out the trash bags instead?” He sighed, seeming to contemplate it, before giving you a cheeky grin, and nodding his head.

“Well, I suppose so.”

You beamed, leaning up to brush a kiss to his cheek as you passed him by, before you were moving away towards the backdoor to find the trash, and he went back to the task he was doing. He swirled in the milk, artfully making sure there was a layer of foam at the top as the coffee poured in, the perfect mix reaching up to the top of each mug, right to the rim, and he placed them both further away on the counter. Leaving them to cool, he did as you’d asked, carrying the boxes up the stairs two at a time, shivering a little at the backdoor that was popped open, and deep down, he was glad he didn’t have to do the task, the industrial waste bins being all the way at the opposite end of the pathway, and there was at last three trips worth of bags there.

It was still snowing, a few flakes gathering in the doorway and melting as they touched the floor, and Stuart made a mental note to heat up some heating pads and put them into his bed before getting ready to sleep tonight, so his covers would be nice and warm when he got into them later tonight. He still had time, and so he put away the box of stock you’d brought down, returning the box to the stockroom and jogging back down. There were no more bags, he knew you must be on your way back by now, and so the timing was perfect, both of you finishing up your set of tasks in correlation.

Using the shape stencil for the chocolate powders, he placed one over the top of your drink, sprinkling the dust across the top until a layer was made, a brown heart sitting prominently on the top of the foamy surface, and he pushed it over to one side of the counter, dusting his own with cinnamon, and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bar, blowing gently on the surface of the drink.

He heard the drag of the metal, the chill being shut out as you closed the door and the sound of locks bolting, before making your way through to meet him. There was snow in your hair that you were trying to shake loose, and goosebumps raised along your skin, and you let out a little huff as you sat opposite him, hands wrapping around your mug for warmth, and he raised his brows, taking a sip of his drink as he stared at you.

“It’s cold as fuck out there.” You smiled a little at the gesture on top, the shape in the foam, offering him an endearing smile, before running a wooden stirrer through it to mix it all up.

“You didn’t think to wear your coat?”

“Didn’t think it was that cold, and by the time I was halfway through, I just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.” You shrugged casually, and he studied you for a moment, before feeling the wicked grin that was cracking across his cheeks.

“You didn’t bring one, did you?”

You paused for a second, before shaking your head with a sigh, and he cheered internally at being right. “I hate that you can read me so well, Twombly. But, no. I didn’t bring a jumper, and I didn’t want to put on my coat because then it would be wet and cold for the walk home.”

He disappeared for only a second, bringing his hoodie back through in his hands, and holding the top of it up for you. You pushed your head through the gap, arms following, and he pulled it down your torso as you cozied into it, before he was sitting down once again, and enjoying the appreciative little noise you left out as the warmth of the oversized hoodie embraced you.

“You are a gift from God himself. You make me my favourite hot drinks, and you keep me warm so I don’t get a chill. Whatever would I do without you, huh, Stu?”

He scrunched up his nose at the nickname, hating the word himself, but loving the way it sounded when you said it, and so he settled for tolerating it in silence, a single shoulder raising and falling in a weak attempt to brush off the gestures, in hopes you wouldn't look too far into them. “Speaking of gifts, check the front pocket.”

He nodded his head to the garment now hanging on your frame, and your jaw dropped, excitement flashing across your features and he sipped his drink to hide his grin, watching as you dug both hands into the pockets, pulling out a small and neatly wrapped box that he’d had ready to give to you for two weeks now.

You placed it down on the tabletop before you, eyeing it for a second before giving in to your curiosity and running a nail underneath the seal of the wrapping. It popped open, and you undid it carefully, before pulling out the box from within. Undoing the latch and pushing it open delicately, there was a little gasp on your lips as you took in the design inside, eyes flicking up to him for a second, and there was something considerably softer and warmer evident in your eyes than had been there before.

“Stuart, this is so pretty.” You ran the pad of a single finger across it, admiring the gem within, before pulling it out slowly by its string. A beautiful charm, silver chain that was shining, a new clasp put on, holding a beautiful charm along it; your birthday stone. “Can you put it on for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, making his way over to you and standing behind you, taking it from your hands and letting you sweep your hair out of the way before he was fastening it around your neck, and letting you admire it on yourself. “I saw it a few weeks ago, in that little vintage charity shop type store down the road, the one you love, and I just knew you’d like it.”

“Correction, I love it.” He beamed, daring to reach a hand out across the table towards you, and you spread your fingers wide for him, enough for him to slip his own digits with yours, holding onto you as your joint hands sat atop the counter. “I got you something too.”

“Well, can I have it?”

“Uh, not quite. Well, not until next summer.” He snorted a laugh, using his free hand to take a sip of his drink. “And, it’s not really something you open, it’s more just something you do.”

“Is it something we can do together?”

“No.” You hummed, squeezing his hand a little at the confusion that flittered across his features. “You know, you’re meant for more than this coffeeshop, Stu. You’re so smart, and so good with all your computers and your tech, and I know you want more.”

“Uh-huh..”

He was confused, he had no idea where you were taking this, and his eyes narrowed apprehensively as he tried to work out where you were going with it all, and what it could possibly have to do with his Christmas present. “You always say you want to go for some amazing opportunities, but don’t think you’re good enough. But, I know you are. So, I may or may not have signed you up to a few things.”

“I feel like this is leading to something weird, like, a tantric sex course, or something.”

You gave him a disbelieving look, a low chuckle emitted from you, before you were shaking your head. “No, not tantric sex. Unless they do that at Google, I’m not sure.”

“Google?”

“Yeah.” You played it off like it was no big deal, but his jaw dropped slightly, and you were staring into your mug with a little smile on your face. “They do this internship thing every year, as you know, since you told me about it, but you didn’t think you had what it takes. I sent in an application form for you, and did some emailing, and there’s a place available for you if you want it. Next summer, six weeks long, I think, but they provide everything. You don’t have to take it, you can turn it down, but I think it could be the beginning of an amazing future for you, Stuart.”

He didn’t know what to say, his eyes were burning slightly as tears formed, and he laughed breathlessly, ducking his head to try and blink them away, before he was taking his hand from your own to wipe at his eyes. His head shook with disbelief, and he felt his entire body deflate with the contented sigh that he let out. “They really accepted me?”

“They did! I’ve been telling you for years how good you are, Stuart, you just have to believe it.”

“You’re the most incredible woman I have ever met.” He looked back up to you now, a look he couldn't quite decipher flashing over your features, before your head was ducking as you nibbled on your lower lip, embarrassment taking place. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“You deserve it.”

“Maybe, but I don’t deserve you.”

Your lips pursed, head shaking vehemently as you wrapped both hands around the one of his that you were holding. “You deserve everything good in the world, Stuart Twombly. I promise you that.”

Stuart was pretty sure that he had never wanted to kiss you more than he wanted to kiss you right now, but before he could work up the nerve, you were standing up, bringing yourself off a little, and taking the box of his gift and placing it back in your pocket. Throwing away the wrapping paper, you made it to his side, arms wrapping around his middle as your hands smoothed over his back, cheek on his shoulder, and he could feel your short puffs of breath against his neck, and he didn’t hesitate for even a single second to wrap you up tightly in the returning of the hug.

You remained that way for a while, letting him trace his fingers up and down your spine, until you had decided that you’d had enough. He would never get tired of it though. The way you felt in his arms and the way you would cling to him in that unique way that you did, the smell of your varying body sprays and perfumes that changed with the seasons, and your heart thudding against his chest through your own, everything that made each hug one of his favourite moments.

“Do you want me to walk you home tonight?”

“I would love that, actually.” You pulled away from him then, and he regretted speaking, but you were giving him that smile that was reserved only to be shared between the two of you when you were alone, and he’d do anything to see it, to keep it on your face, and so he was willing to let the hug go. “Let me go grab about coats.”

He only nodded, draining away what was left of your drinks and leaving the mugs upside down on the counter beside the dishwasher, ready to be cleaned and restored to the shelves before opening time tomorrow. You were already wearing your coat when you returned, holding his out to him, and as soon as he took it, your hands were buried into your pockets. He fished out his keys, a hand on your lower back as he guided you towards the door, letting you turn off all the fairy lights and main lamps, the building closing down into darkness.

As the door was pulled open, cold air swept in, a groan on your lips as you exited into the icy chill, snow crunching under your feet as you went, leaving your marks in the pristine covering, shuddering a little as you did. He locked up, hearing you kicking at piles of snow absentmindedly behind him, before the building was all locked up and the shutters were pulled down, locking the building up tight to be protected for another night. Then, he was pulling up his hood, protecting himself against the cold weather, and falling into step beside you on the way he was accustomed to walking in the direction of your apartment.

You didn’t have a hood, and he patted down his pockets, finding the item he was looking for, and bringing it up to place on your head, hands smoothing over your hair as the garment was adjusted, before deciding he was happy with the way it looked.

“You had your beanie with you the whole time, today?”

“I always have my beanie with me.” He teased, reaching a hand into your pocket boldly, and lacing cold fingers with your warm ones, feeling you squeeze back and hold onto him tightly. His other hand was tucked into his own pocket, and he had to bite at the inside of his cheek just to be able to contain his smile.

“Well, why didn’t you wear it? You needed it, today of all days.” He huffed a little at your teasing, in reference to the fall he had taken hours ago.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to be different today, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t need to be different. I happen to adore you just the way you are.” He didn’t bother to reply, simply twisting his head to press a kiss to your temple, before a simple silence was taking up around you both. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be in a comfortable kind of quiet, whether you were physically together or on the phone, or a video call, it was just a norm. Sometimes, when he had college work to do, he’d ring you, and let you go about everything you were doing at home, just to have some company. Sometimes, when your anxiety was getting the better of you and you’d feel a little overwhelmed, you’d call him, and he’d talk to you about anything and everything he could think of until you fell asleep, or felt better.

It was just the way the two of you operated, another way in which the pair of you created a perfect balance and harmony together.

It was a short walk, and only a few lights in your building were still lit up, but he knew that most of your neighbours were older couples, but that you’d chosen that purposefully, for a more peaceful place to live. When he reached the bottom of the steps you were cautious to stand in the spots where snow had been cleared and salt laid down, the centres of the steps, as you climbed up onto the first one. You were taller than him by a few inches now, and he was looking up at you, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders.

“Thanks for walking me, Stuart.” He could only nod, swallowing thickly, and trying to gain some confidence. Today had been the best day yet that the two of you had spent together, it had all been one, long, ‘moment’ between you both. Uninterrupted and without anything to shatter it, he’d loved every moment, and he didn’t want to let his chance slip away as a new day threatened to wipe the slate clean. “Out with it, Twombly. What’s going through that brilliant head of yours?”

“Just, that today was amazing. With you, it was incredible.”

“I had a great day too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, and he laughed lightly, watching as your eyes twinkled with your own amusement.

“I know, it’s just that I had such a good day I don’t want it to end. But, I never want days with you to end.” He could feel fear taking over, logic about knowing you must feel the same way flying out of the window, and he felt like a teenager again, trying to ask the popular girl to be his date to the latest school dance. “I felt like there was something special today, though. When you were looking after me after I bumped my head, before a customer came in.”

He took a deep breath, watching the way your lips flicked up at the sides, and he scowled a little, now knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about, and forcing him to say it anyway.

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“Maybe I do.” You teased, and he grumbled a little under his breath, but he could never really be angry with you for your teases, not when you looked so cute while doing so.

“I just think that me and you have something special, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t say anything when I had the chance, if some other schmuck came in and swept you up before I had the chance to tell you how I really f-” He was shocked, a gasp on his lips as he felt you push into him. Your hands had moved from his shoulders to rest lightly on his neck, heart racing under your palms and as he realised that you were kissing him, a soft moan bubbled up from within him.

When he finally managed to wrap his head around what was going on, he lifted one hand up to place over your cheek, pressing back into you enthusiastically, and the other settled on your waist. Underneath your coat, his fingers flexed against your waist, pulling you closer and letting you step back down to his height as your chest came flush up with his. It was slow, the drag of your lips over his, soft and short kisses that were pressed in between soft sighs and smiles, gasps for breath before you were diving into each other once again.

He let his tongue poke out, needing more from you as he found himself beginning to drown in the taste of your mouth, and the way it felt to finally indulge in what he’d been wanting for so long, and he needed more. He traced the seam of your lips, and you parted them for him almost instantly, dipping your own tongue out to play with his own, and it felt like an entirely new high. Dragging together, tangling, playing as you learned one another’s mouths, got to know each other in a whole new and more intimate way than ever before, and he was sure his head was spinning.

He needed breath, desperately, but he wasn’t ready to pull back just yet, and then you did, a whine sliding form him as he puckered his lips and chased after you in a way that he really should have been embarrassed about, but couldn't find it to do so. You had swollen and shining lips, hair slightly messy from the hand of his own that had slid into the locks, and you were flushed, panting a little for breath as you stared up at him through darkened but widened eyes.

“That might be the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, dragging the tip of his nose against your own, and stealing a few more quick kisses from your lips, looking down at you once again as you found yourself standing on the ground alongside him. You were tugged into him close enough that he could feel your heart beating against his own, just as fast and unsteady, showing him that you felt the same way he did, and that he affected you just as you affected him.

“You taste like gingerbread.”

He smirked a little, something like a giggle and sigh leaving you as you nodded your head, shrugging slightly before running your hands back down his arms to take his hands in your own. With foreheads pressed together, you pecked his lips once more, and Stuart swore this was what heaven felt like. “Well, you did make me a gingerbread spiced coffee before we left the shop.”

“They are your favourite, you have a ton of them every winter, I knew you’d like one.”

“I didn’t know you noticed that.” You smiled, and he brushed a thumb over your cheek, tipping your head back to catch his eye.

“I’ve had a thing for you for quite a while, I just never knew what to do about it, and you were in a relationship, so I was left learning stupid little endearing facts about you.” He grinned, and you gasped, shoving him a little while never letting go of his hand.

“Stuart, I’ve been flirting with you constantly for like eight months. You never made a move!”

“I just made a move!”

You only laughed more, pursed lips as you stared at him. “Nope! Pretty sure I’m the one who kissed you, actually.”

He could only roll his eyes and smile, nodding his head and leaning back in. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He closed the gap, another sweet and tender kiss being shared between you both. Sensual and soft, he decided that if he could live in this exact moment forever, he’d be more than happy with that, kissing the Christmassy reminiscent taste from your lips as you held onto him so tightly.

When you finally pulled away, you were walking backwards up the steps, tugging him with you a little, and offering him a coy smirk. “Wanna’ come up for a Christmas spiced nightcap?”

He let out a loud laugh at that, louder than he should have when all the downstairs lights were turned off, but he couldn't help it, following you up the steps and weaving your fingers together properly. “Can’t imagine anything better.”

“I’ll tell you all about your internship when we get up there.” You were patting down your pockets, finding your keys and making sure to lock the main door building carefully behind yourself, and he trailed after you, as quietly as possible.

“I can’t wait.”

#stuart twombly #stuart twombly x reader #stuart twombly x reader smut #stuart twombly/reader #stuart twombly/reader smut #stuart twombly the internship #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the internship #dylan obrien stuart twombly #12 Days of AUmas

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engie-ivy · 3 years

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I've written a part two for this fic! Read part one here.

What Chance Do I Have?

Regulus has agreed to tutor a classmate in statistics, but quickly comes to regret his life choices when the only chance the guy seems interested in, is the chance of getting to snog Regulus’ older brother.

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Part one: Crushin'

Part two: Fallin'

What Chance Do I Have? Part two: Fallin'

Dating Sirius Black is like a dream. No, a fantasy. A teenage fantasy of summer romance.

Dating Sirius Black is sneaking up to his room after Remus’ tutoring sessions and snog for hours on his bed. Dating Sirius Black is hurrying outside when his motorcycle pulls up, while Remus’ mum throws him a worrying look. Dating Sirius Black is Remus’ arms tightly wrapped around his waist while sitting on the back of his motorcycle. Dating Sirius Black is driving up a hill to watch the sunset and wearing his leather jacket when Remus gets cold. Dating Sirius Black is eating take-out pizza in the park late at night with him teaching Remus the constellations. Dating Sirius Black is skinny dipping in the lake at midnight. Dating Sirius Black feels like homecoming and an adventure, an obsession and an escape, too much and never enough.

Also, Remus’ statistics are actually going better. Regulus has given up on banning Sirius from their tutoring sessions. Sirius would just go outside to do all sorts of distracting activities in front of the window, like watering the plants in just his swimming trunks (“What the hell are you doing? We have a gardener! You haven’t watered a plant in your life!”), washing his motorcycle (“If you want to wash that thing, at least pour more water on your motorcycle than over yourself!), or doing his stretches (“What muscles are you even trying to stretch? You’re just standing there bend over. Get your arse away from the window!”). After Regulus sending Sirius away, Remus would go to the toilet and disappear for twenty minutes.

Regulus eventually allowed Sirius to stay, when Sirius came up with the idea of rewarding Remus for each good answer with a kiss, which remarkably improved his performance. Except for one instance where Remus had solved a particularly difficult problem and Sirius had gotten a bit carried away in his reward (the hoisting Remus up on the table throwing the statistics book on the floor-kind of carried away), and Regulus had muttered something about rinsing his eyes with bleach, it was a good arrangement for everyone.

Today, Remus is having drinks with a few girls from his class, Mary McDonald, Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans. They had apparently taken a liking to him and decided to befriend him, which Remus still finds surprising. Lily Evans and her boyfriend James Potter are the school’s it-couple, and the most popular people in school.

Remus and the girls have gathered for brunch, and some much-needed catch up-time.

“How’ve you been, Remus?” Marlene asks, sipping her tea. “Hardly seen you since the summer hols started.”

“I’ve been good. Keeping myself busy.”

“Ah, right,” Lily says. “You’ve been having those tutoring sessions with Regulus. How’s that going?”

“Yes.” Mary not-so-subtly steaks a pancake from Marlene’s plate. “How are you bearing spending beautiful summer days in the stuffy Black manor?”

“It’s not that bad.” Remus does his very best to sound casual, but he can’t help the corners of his mouth curling slightly upwards thinking about some of the times spent in the Black manor.

“Oh oh,” Mary says, staring at him with a piercing gaze. “Look at his face.”

“Ah, yes,” Marlene says. “I see.”

“Maybe it’s just the heat?” Lily suggests weakly.

“No,” Mary says decidedly, shaking her head. “The combination of a blush like that and the dreamy look in his eyes can only have one explanation.” She points her fork accusingly in Remus’ direction, pancake pieces flying through the air. “You’ve met Sirius Black!”

Remus tries to look unaffected and calmly meets her gaze. “I may have seen him around.”

Marlene leans forward resting her head on her hand. “So he still looks like that, huh?”

“He does Marlene,” Remus replies, forgetting about seeming unaffected. “He really does, and I was very unprepared.”

Mary chuckles. “Some things there’s no preparing for.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like,” Lily interjects, looking at Remus pointedly. “You cannot start being friends with Sirius Black!”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I haven’t started being friends with Sirius Black.”

Lily lets out a relieved breath and takes a sip of her tea.

“I’vestarteddatingSiriusBlack,” Remus murmurs in one breath.

Lily spits out her tea, Marlene drops her fork with a clatter, and Mary actually shrieks.

“What?” Lily coughs, dapping her chin with her napkin.

“You… are dating… Sirius Black?” Marlene asks, stunned.

Mary just stares at Remus with something like awe.

Remus shrugs. “We kind of clicked.”

“Dating Sirius Black,” Mary whispers. “Many have tried, and many have failed.”

“Including you,” Marlene says to Mary.

Mary sighs wistfully. “I should’ve taken tutoring sessions with Regulus.”

Marlene whacks her over the head. “I’m pretty sure Sirius Black’s type is cute, freckled guys with big eyes and floppy hair. Not whoever his little brother happens to be tutoring at the time.”

“You shouldn’t be dating Sirius Black!” Lily points her finger accusingly in Remus’ direction. “That guy cannot be trusted! He’s bad news, Remus.”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “He has been nothing but respectful towards me, and has never given me a reason not to trust him.”

“Well, maybe you don’t actually know him that well,” Lily retorts.

“I’ll find that out for myself then, won’t I?” Irritation seeps through in Remus’ voice. “I’m very much capable of making my own decisions.”

“You are,” Lily replies. “If you were making those decisions with your brain and not some other body part.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Lily, Remus,” Marlene says hesitantly. “I think you can’t see that Sirius Black is no good for you.”

“Yeah,” even Mary chimes in. “While I know it’s easy to get distracted by that hair, and those eyes, and that smile, and those shoulders, and that arse- wait, what was I saying again?”

Marlene whacks Mary over her head.

“Look, I’m not just dating him because he’s a walking definition of physical perfection,” Remus says. “He’s so clever, and he’s always doing nice things for me, he actually listens to what I say, and he always makes me laugh…”

“Oh god.” Lily is staring at him with a horrified expression on her face. “You’re falling in love with him!”

Remus can feel his cheeks reddening, but he refuses to look away and stares back defiantly. “If I was, I’d be none of your business.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Remus!”

“I appreciate your concern,” Remus says cooly. “But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Fine,” Lily scoffs. “If he does break your heart and you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me. And whatever you do, do not mention him in front of-”

“Hi, Lilyflower!”

“James!” Lily shrieks, whirling around in her chair and her voice sounding three octaves higher than usual. “Hello. Hi. How do you do? Fancy seeing you here.”

James gives her a funny look. “You mean where we agreed I’d meet you to give you back your car keys? Thanks again for letting me borrow your car, by the way.”

“Oh, right. Silly me,” Lily says with a very unnatural chuckle, as James places the keys in her hand.

James glances around the table suspiciously. “What were you talking about?”

“School,” Lily says, at the same time Marlene says “the weather”, and Mary says “cows”.

James looks at Remus, but he looks just as confused as James is.

“Alright then…” James says. “Well, sorry for interrupting your school-wheather-cow discussion.” He bends to give Lily a kiss on her cheek. “See you tonight, babe.”

“Yes, toodles!” Lily says, and James gives her an amused look before walking away.

Lily slumps in her chair.

“I think that went pretty well,” Mary says.

Marlene whacks her over the head. “Cows?”

“I panicked!”

Remus arches an eyebrow and leans forward in his chair towards Lily. “Care to tell me why I can’t mention Sirius to James?”

Lily sighs. “Back when Sirius Black was still in our class, he and James were best friends.”

“More than best friends,” Marlene adds. “Like brothers. Platonic soulmates.”

“You never saw one without the other,” Mary chimes in. “They were on the football team together, sat next to each other in class, were always pranking the teachers together.”

Marlene snickers. “The teachers always said ‘PotterandBlack’ in one breath.”

“Well, yeah,” Lily says. “But then Black started skipping grades, and I don’t know, he must’ve thought he was too good for James suddenly. He just stopped hanging out with him, quitted the football team and didn’t speak to James anymore.”

“That’s rough,” Remus frowns. “Without giving any explanation?”

Mary nods sadly. “It was a though time for James.”

“It really threw him off,” Lily agrees. “It was hard to see.”

“I thought you said you hated James back then?” Remus asks.

“Nah, she didn’t,” Mary replies.

Marlene smirks. “Unless it was in a ‘I hate James Potter and his stupid face, with his stupidly sexy hair and that stupidly cute grin, and those horribly pretty eyes and outrageously broad shoulders’.”

“Anyway,” Lily says pointedly, her cheeks flushed. “The point is that you deserve better, Remus. Someone who treats people as if they’re disposable is obviously no boyfriend-material.”

Remus thinks about it for a moment. “Alright,” he eventually says. “I’ll admit that I see where you’re coming from, but still. I have to make my own judgment from my own experience with Sirius.”

“I respect that,” Lily replies, only a tad reluctantly. “All I ask is for you to be on your guard.”

Remus walks home with Marlene, who’s going in the same direction.

“How are you going to handle it, though?” Marlene asks. “I mean, it must be stuck in your head, the question what Sirius Black’s deal was with that whole thing with James?”

“It is,” Remus replies. “But I’ve come up with an ingenious plan to find out.”

“Which is?” Marlene asks.

“Out-of-the-box as it may be,” Remus says. “I’ll go up to Sirius and ask him ‘what was your deal with that whole thing with James?’.”

Marlene grins. “I can see Sirius Black didn’t just like you for your pretty face!”

“Oh Marls,” Remus throws an arm around her shoulders. “You forget that he met me while I was doing statistics.”

Marlene throws her head back and laughs. “I take it back! It was definitely your pretty face!”

Remus decides to go and see Sirius that very evening. They didn’t make any plans, but Remus figures he can always check if he’s home. He walks up to the Black manor and knocks. After a few moments, an anxious looking Regulus opens the door, only slightly.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus hisses, the moment he recognizes Remus.

Remus is about to answer, when a woman’s shrill voice sounds from the living room.

“You ungrateful brat! After everything we’ve done for you, you’ll choose to shame us?”

Remus blinks, and Regulus looks over his shoulder and then back to Remus.

“This is not a good time,” he tells Remus. “You should leave, quickly!”

A man’s heavy voice now comes through. “You’re embarrassing yourself. And worse, you’re embarrassing your family. I’m starting to doubt whether you’re even worthy of being our son.”

Suddenly, Sirius bursts out the living room, pushes the front door further open, and stalks out into the street. He’s walking fast, jaw tight, and eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t even register that he walked right past Remus.

Regulus makes a move as if to follow him, but then the woman’s voice sounds again. “Regulus! Regulus Black, where are you? You get over here immediately. I will not have you talk to your brother!”

Regulus looks terribly conflicted between hurrying after Sirius and making sure his parents don’t freak out more.

“I can go after him,” Remus offers in a quiet whisper. “Then you can deal with your parents.”

Regulus nods gratefully, before disappearing back into the house.

Remus finds Sirius sitting on some steps not far from the house, his head in his hands. He looks up at Remus’ approaching footsteps and startles.

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I was at the door.”

Sirius shakes his head. “I didn’t even see…”

Remus smiles. “I noticed.”

“Did you hear…?”

“Only some bits.” Remus sits down one step above Sirius and threads his fingers through his hair. “Wanna talk about it?”

Sirius shrugs. “I told my parents I was thinking about becoming a veterinarian instead of a doctor. I thought they’d might be okay with it, as it’s still a medical profession, not too much of a deviation from their plan, but apparently veterinarian is ‘an inferior profession much below their status’ and I am ‘selfish, stubborn and ungrateful to even consider it’.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus says softly.

Sirius sighs. “Yeah. I’m just sick of it, you know? Sick of trying to live up to their expectations instead of my own.”

“Is that also why you stopped being friends with James?” Remus asks hesitantly.

“I ruined my friendship with James for the same reason I’ve ruined each good thing I’ve had in my life,” Sirius replies bitterly. “My bloody parents.”

Remus stays silent, and after a moment, Sirius continues.

“They said I couldn’t become a doctor if I kept wasting my time on playing football and acting childish with immature people. Being a dumb fifteen-year-old, I believed them, and considering the option of not becoming a doctor never even occurred to me. It was the plan they had set out for me since the day I was born, it was a given.” Sirius turns his head to look at Remus. “Did James tell you?”

Remus shakes his head. “I heard from others.”

“Right,” Sirius looks away again, but Remus can still see the pained expression in his eyes. “I knew that. Regulus already told me James never even mentions me anymore.”

“Well, you’ve never given him a reason,” Remus says. “James is a good person-”

“He’s the best,” Sirius immediately says.

“Right. If you had just explained the situation to him?”

“I know,” Sirius sighs. “But James was like… the height of cool, and I had somehow managed to convince everyone I was the same. I just couldn’t bear the embarrassment of telling him it was because my mommy said no, so I took the cowardice approach. I just stopped talking to him. I regretted it soon after, but by then I was convinced he already hated me, and it seemed futile to make him hate me again for a different reason.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “Now I regret ending the friendship in the first place. Hanging out, playing football, pulling pranks… Life was fun back then, you know?” Sirius looks down at the stone pavement. “Life hasn’t been fun in a while.”

“It’s supposed to be!” Remus says. “Especially at our age. Life’s supposed to be fun.”

“I mean, life was fun these past weeks with you, but those years in between…” Sirius shrugs.

Remus moves down a step and takes Sirius’ hand in his. “Look at me, Sirius. You deserve to play football and pull pranks, to become a veterinarian and live life according to your own expectations, and you deserve to have fun!”

Sirius just stares at him, his eyes seeming glassy.

Remus, suddenly feeling awkward, drops Sirius’ hand. “So, I don’t expect I’ll be meeting the parents any time soon?” Remus meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, especially since he and Sirius aren’t even officially together, but Sirius looks at him intently.

“If you want me to tell them about you, I will.”

“What?” Remus asks, bewildered. “They’ll kill you!”

Sirius shrugs. “Most likely.” And Remus hates the casual certainty in which he says it, and he hates even more that he’s not sure if Sirius means it in a manner of speaking.

“But I want you to know I’m not ashamed of you.”

“I appreciate it, really,” Remus says. “But I don’t want you doing anything stupid for my sake!”

“But Remus,” Sirius says. “Isn’t that the foundation of our relationship? Me doing stupid things for your sake?”

Remus chuckles. “Perhaps, but this is not something that needs doing for my sake! I don’t mind. Well, I mind for as much as that I whish you had decent parents whose heads aren’t so far up their arses, but I don’t mind for my sake.” Remus smirks. “I think it’s kind of hot, actually. Our romance being-” He lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “forbidden.”

Sirius snorts. “You’re insane.” But he’s smiling again, so Remus considers it an absolute win.

“I mean it! We’re like Romeo and Julliet!”

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “You do know their romance lasted five days and six people died?”

Remus shrugs. “We can break that record.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows even further.

“Oh, god, for the number of days! Not the number of deaths! I don’t want anyone to die for our romance! Although, if some tragedy were to befall your parents…”

“Remus!”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

Sirius shakes his head, but Remus likes to think it is the fond sort of headshake. His suspicion is confirmed when Sirius cups his face between his hands and strokes Remus’ cheeks with his thumbs.

“You’re insane, Remus Lupin,” he says softly. “And I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Part one

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary mcdonald

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

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A Place to Belong Chapter 44: Suddenly I’m Holding the World in My Arms

Chapter 43

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One week later

Jamie was sweating like a sinner in church. Claire watched him get dressed, the fabric of his clothing rippling with how his hands trembled. She didn’t think he knew she was awake, so she watched him silently, her heart aching.

He was nervous.

Brianna had boldly declared at supper last night that she was going to ride her horse with her Da, the very next day. He’d completely lit up, his deep blue irises glowing, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Whatever ye wish, a leannan.”

He could deny her nothing.

But now, when actually faced with the prospect of truly being alone with her, of doing something so conventional as father and daughter, he was scared. Terrified.

He turned back to the bed, presumably to kiss her good morning and tell her he was going to be off soon, but was instead met with her open eyes, watching him intently.

“Good morning, Sassenach,” he said quietly, hiding the wee jump he’d had at seeing her awake. He did indeed move to the bed and kiss her, sitting beside her and letting his fingertips rest on her hairline.

“Good morning,” she answered, reaching up to take his hand, closing her fingers around his and resting them there on her head.

He then brought her hand to his lips, kissing it reverently. Claire sighed in ecstasy. “I dinna think I shall ever tire of this…of simply…waking up wi’ ye beside me. Surely I couldna, before…but now…it’s…”

“I know,” Claire finished. “It’s exactly the same for me. After years of blindly reaching for you and feeling…nothing…to actually feel you, see you when I wake, it’s…”

He leaned down to kiss the tears that escaped her eyes and lingered on her cheeks. “It’s alright, now, Claire. I’m here, mo nighean donn, now and forever.”

She gratefully kissed him again, breathing him in, savoring him. She’d never stop thanking God; Father, Son, and Holy Ghost alike for bringing him back to her. When they pulled away, the apprehension was back in his features.

“Jamie…” she said gently, sitting up and caressing his face. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Afraid?” he said, a bit too quickly. “Dinna ken what ye mean.”

“I thought you were going to collapse while you were getting dressed just now.” She was teasing, but not lying altogether. “What is so frightening about an eight-year-old girl?”

She caressed the stubble of his chin as was ingrained in the marrow of her bone to do, gently coaxing it out of him.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“Aye, I ken…” But he couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s…it’s foolish, is all.”

“No, it isn’t.” She gripped his chin now, forcing her to look at her. “Talk to me, Jamie.”

He cleared his throat and gently removed her hand from his chin, holding it between both of his and, stroking it, rubbing it, molding it as if it were clay. His hands were always restless when he was uncertain.

“I’ve, ah…I’ve been wi’ bairns before, ye ken,” he began, nodding as if to assure himself rather than her. “I ken how to make them smile, and laugh; I ken the wee games they play. I love that look in their eye right before they ask something of ye that perhaps they shouldn’t; I love the way their wee teeth are always crooked. I love the…the feel of their wee bodies against my chest. It felt…right to cradle Jenny’s bairns.” Claire’s eyes became misty, and Jamie cleared his throat again. “It made me feel like I was meant to cradle my own someday. Jenny always said I looked braw wi’ a bairn in my arms, ye ken.” He sniffled, and Claire added her other hand to the mix of his and hers, covering the fidgeting hands and rubbing circles over them.

“When I sent ye home from Culloden wi’ wee Fergus,” (It stung, calling him wee, something he most certainly was not anymore.) “I’d made my peace wi’ never holding my own. I thought I was meant to die. And then, again, at Ardsmuir, I…I tried to fill my mind wi’ images of you wi’ Fergus, kissing that curly mop and nagging him to death. And images of ye cradling wee Kitty, swinging around wee Jamie, Maggie. It made me ache to think of ye never to bear a child of yer own. I kent how badly ye wanted to, Claire. Especially after…after Faith.” His eyes averted hers, but she still nodded, understanding, urging him to continue.

“There were nights when I…I just wept. Because I couldna give ye the life ye wanted, the life ye deserved. Because I…I’d never look at a bairn and see you in her, I’d never look at those wee crooked teeth and know that you and I made them.” He shook his head, his breath trembling. “But now…to suddenly just…just have that…to know that…that all these years there was a lass wi’ my eyes and my hair, and yer nose and yer smile…I…I thought I’d die in that prison, or at least be there ’til my old age. And even if I’d gotten out I’d convinced myself that ye’d remarried, ye had bairns of yer own, or even that…perhaps ye’d gone back to yer own time, to Frank. I just…I knew that we’d never have a family. Even when I came back to ye I thought it…it just couldna be meant to be. Wi’ everything that happened…wi’ Faith, the war…everything.

“But I look at that lass, and I…” His voice finally broke, his resolve crumbling, unbidden tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Jamie…” Claire whispered, moving her hands to caress his face, smooth his hair, wipe his tears. “It’s alright, love…”

“I…I canna bear how much I love her, Claire…”

“I know.”

“I would lay the world at her feet, I’d tear out my heart and give it to her if I could.”

“I know, Jamie.”

“But she…she doesna even know me. And I ken, she will,” he said quickly, before Claire could interject with her endless platitudes. “I ken she knows I’m her Da and she’ll learn to…to love me. I ken that.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “But I…I canna disappoint her, Claire. I canna lose her because I’m no’ the man she wants me to be. I’m as much a stranger to her as she is to me. I’ve seen ye wi’ her, Claire. Yer like two sides of the same coin.” He smiled wistfully despite himself, remembering the images of Claire holding up a doll, unabashed, coaxing giggles from the wee thing.

“She’s…she’s no’ a babe, no’ really. I canna just pick her up and tell her I’m her Da and have her accept it as truth fer the rest of her life. Eight years old…when I was eight years old I’d already had and lost my mother. Eight years was an entire lifetime to me.”

“Jamie…she knows who you are…”

“Aye, she knows who I am. She doesna know me. And I dinna ken her.”

“She will. You will.”

“But what if I can’t?” He finally looked into her eyes again. “What if I canna be what she needs? She’s…accustomed to no’ having a father. She got along just fine wi’out me.”

“That is not true — ”

“But it is, Claire. Ye dinna have to spare my feelings. I ken how you grieved and mourned and ached…but to her I never existed. All she had to go on was yer word. She was none the wiser to what she was missing. But fer me to drop out o’ the sky and suddenly be a father to her…what if it’s no’ what she needs?”

“Is that what this is about…?” Claire said gently. “You’re afraid she doesn’t need you?”

He sighed. “It sounds selfish to say it that way…but I suppose that’s part of it. Jenny’s bairns loved me, before, but they didna need me. They had their own parents. Fergus…I ken he was a son to me and he loved me as his father. But he’s a man now, a man that I didna help to raise. A bairn, a truly newborn babe is…so full of need, ye ken. When I pictured our children, I…I pictured their being so wee, and helpless, depending on us… on me.”

“She’s still a little girl, Jamie,” Claire assured him. “You haven’t missed everything.” She kneaded a hand through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. “And, you know…I need you Jamie. I lived for twenty-seven years not knowing that you even existed. I spent a whole lifetime not knowing that I needed you. But we met, we married, we fell in love…and now I know that all those years were leading me to you. Because I needed you. I was, am, a grown woman that is in desperate need of someone.” Her hands trailed down the length of his face, cupping his chin. “I grew to love you, and quickly realized what I’d been missing. And so will Brianna. Yes, it’s true. She could have grown up and thrived without…without a father. She was surrounded by love, always, I had all the help raising her that I ever could have asked for. But now that you’re here, her life will be all the richer for it.”

Claire gently kissed him, and he gratefully kissed her back. She nuzzled her nose into his, her warm breath tickling his lip.

“Are…are ye sure?”

“What?” She pulled away a little so she could look into his eyes again.

“Are ye sure that I can…can make her life richer?”

“Of course, Jamie. What do you mean?”

“I’m a broken man, Claire,” he said despondently. Claire’s brow furrowed in concern. “Prison was…dehumanizing.” Her eyes misted again. “I dinna ken if I…if I have it in me to make the bairns laugh…to make my own child smile.”

“You do, Jamie,” Claire insisted. “You’ve survived so much, and you are still the man I fell in love with. I know it might not feel that way to you, but you’re still…you. To me.”

“And to Brianna?”

“She will love whoever you are, because you love her. Prison can take away a lot of things, but it did not destroy your ability to love. I know that, and your daughter knows that.”

“I just…I canna fail her, Claire.”

“You won’t.” Claire kissed his jawline. “And besides, all you’re doing today is holding the reins of her horse and guiding her around the corral. You can manage that can’t you?”

“Aye, I can.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“One step at a time, Jamie. You’ve met her, you’ve held her for the first time. Now she just wants to ride her horse with you. Just listen when she talks, smile at her, tell her she’s doing a good job.”

“I…I can do that.”

“She is only eight, after all. Easy to please, and eager to please, at that.”

He nodded. “What if she…asks me questions I canna answer?”

“She knows not to ask about the war or the prison. I’ve talked to her about that.”

“Aye but…what about…anything else?”

Claire chuckled. “Like you said, you’ve conversed with plenty of children. I think you’ll be able to come up with an answer about how a horse gets its color. Or something along those lines.” He finally genuinely smiled, chuckling softly. “And besides, I’ll be right there with you.”

“Will ye?”

“Of course. I hardly ever take my eyes off of her, God forbid I miss a seizure. Fergus knows what to do, just in case I’m not around for whatever reason, but I’d really rather be there. Especially when she’s on a horse, so far off the ground. If she falls I have to check for head trauma, and I know Fergus would catch her of course but…just in case.” Jamie’s panic was growing the more she talked, and she didn’t realize until she stopped rambling. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to worry you about all that.” Claire nuzzled his nose again. “It isn't as serious as I’m making it sound. I’m just…a worrier. You know.”

“Aye,” he said uneasily.

“I do of course enjoy watching her ride and play aside from just hovering and worrying.” She smiled weakly. “The epilepsy gives me an excuse to watch her all the time, I suppose. Two birds one stone.”

He smiled again. Then sobered, leaning back to properly look at her. “Ye say that Fergus knows what to do if there is a…a seizure.”

“Yes.”

“And Jenny, and Ian, they know?”

Claire nodded. “Ian isn’t around to help as much as Jenny, but he has helped enough to know what to look for, what to do.”

“Can ye…can ye teach me?” His brow was knitted together, yet his eyes were wide. “How to…to help our daughter?”

“Right now?”

“Aye.” He nodded solemnly. “I want to know before I spend time wi’ her. I dinna want to fail her before we even begin.”

“Alright.” Claire nodded. “Come here.”

She took his hands and led him off the bed, bringing him to the open space on the floor. She retrieved a blanket from the armoire, then knelt in the center of the room, gently pulling him down with her.

“Alright. So. You remember what I said about her eyes, and her arm? And the shaking?” He nodded. “Good. Now, she’s old enough now to know when one is coming on, so we always sit her on the floor until it starts. We also put a blanket down for her to lay on, because she always vomits at the end.” Jamie didn't say anything, but she could practically hear him saying Christ, in that way she’d grown accustomed to hearing.

“Always loosen her collar and untie any bonnets she might be wearing before it starts. Her neck needs to be free so she doesn’t choke.” He exhaled heavily, and she swore she actually heard the Christ that time.

“She goes stiff, her arm goes into that position, and she falls flat on the floor.” Claire demonstrated slowly, laying down. “Her head must be protected, which is what the blanket is for. Come here.” She handed him the blanket. “She needs to be on her side so she doesn’t choke on her saliva or her vomit.” Claire turned on her side. “Like this. Now take the blanket and surround my head with it without restraining me. She cannot be restrained.”

“Aye…dinna restrain her.” Jamie bit his lip in concentration as he arranged the blanket around her head. “How is that?”

“That’s good,” Claire assured. “Now, I’m holding myself up because I’m conscious, but she’ll have no control over her body. So you’ll have to keep your hand on her back so she stays on her side. It is critical that she stays on her side.”

“Aye.” Jamie nodded, moving his hand to the small of her back. “Here?”

Claire let herself go limp to demonstrate the reality, and he immediately readjusted, a bit higher, actually keeping her propped up.

“There,” Claire said. “Good. Keep your hand there, but don’t touch her anywhere else — ”

“Dinna restrain her,” Jame finished for her.

“Good.” Claire sat up to look at him. “When she’s under, it’s unclear whether or not she’s aware of what’s happening around her, whether or not she can hear anything. And then after she doesn’t remember. But just in case, I always talk to her, comfort her. I think it helps.” He nodded. “Which is another thing, you have to be calm. You have to keep her calm. Any distress could make it worse. It took a while to get used to, of course, but these seizures are normal now. She’s had them her whole life, she knows what to expect. They are normal, for her at least. But it is still scary for her, and as long as you’re calm and ready, she will be too.”

He nodded.

“Afterwards, once she stops seizing and after she vomits, you can move her. I always hold her and remind her that she’s safe. She’s very lethargic afterwards. She doesn’t talk, she can’t stand or move very much. But that’s normal. We give her chamomile tea afterwards to calm her muscles. When she was a baby I used to shovel droplets of it into her little mouth with my finger while she was seizing. I still don’t know if it made any difference. But the herb does relax muscles, so it makes her feel calmer after she’s had a seizure. She’s out of it for a few days after. I have to monitor her pulse and her breathing afterwards to make sure there wasn’t any internal damage done. But she’s always been just fine, just very sleepy for two or three days. Depending on how long it was.”

“How long are they usually?”

“Typically between thirty and fifty seconds. Her worst one was a minute and a half when she was a baby, the next worst one was around seventy seconds.”

“Christ, all that fuss for thirty seconds…” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I know, it’s hard to believe, but those thirty seconds can be incredibly dangerous if not handled properly.”

“Aye. I ken.”

Claire took his hand sympathetically. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise it’s not as much of an ordeal as it sounds. You just have to be prepared. Do you have any questions?”

He cleared his throat and wet his lips. “How, ah…tell me again…how many ways were there…for her to choke?”

“Jamie…” She stroked his cheek. “She won’t choke. That only happens to people that aren't cared for properly. As long as there isn’t anything tied around her neck and she’s on her side, she will not choke.”

He nodded, his jaw hard.

“I’ll be there when it happens to guide you. Or you can just watch. You don’t have to help until you feel ready.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’ll help.”

Claire smiled warmly and kissed him briefly. “Good.”

“When is…the last time it happened?”

“February was the last one, so it’s been about a month and a half,” Claire said confidently. She kept very close track. “She typically has one every couple of months, anywhere between four to eight times a year.”

“Christ…”

“It could be a lot worse, Jamie,” she assured him. “She is a very healthy little girl aside from all this. And right now,” she caressed his chin. “She is waiting for her Da to accompany her to the corral.”

He smiled again. “Aye…she is.”

“Your little girl, Jamie.”

“Aye…” His eyes misted over. “My wean…our wean.”

She kissed him gently, sweetly, reverently. “Ours.”

----

Hello all! In case you didn't notice, I've given this chapter a hard stopping chapter; the final chapter will be 45, so one more after this! BUT, dinna fash, I've always had in mind that this story would go all the way into Brianna's adulthood, and it will -- just in a sequel! I decided that I want to leave this story as is, keeping it mainly about Claire's grief and bond with Jenny and finding her place at Lallybroch, and then explore all the ideas and pre-written new plots I have in a separate story! So yeah! This isn't the end of the APTB babies, it's really only just beginning! So stay tuned for one more chapter, and then stay tuned for the sequel -- already in the works, to be posted in 2021! So much love to y'all!<3

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dudeandduchess · 4 years

Text

Kyōjurō x F!S/O, and Ran: Orihime and Hikoboshi (Family Fluff, SFW Scenario)

Summary: Kyōjurō and his wife take their daughter to the Tanabata, and while there Kyō tells Ran all about the story behind the festival— while, of course, embellishing a few details. After all, it was for the sake of entertaining the brightest star in the Flame Hashira’s life.

Note: I had baby fever, so this was inevitable. 😂 Also, here are two amazing art pieces of Ran which were drawn by @captain-roomba 🥰 I love them so much and were high key my inspirations for writing this.

If you bbys have any Ran art or anything like that, please don’t hesitate to send them my way. I love seeing them sooooo much. 🥰🍉

***

The sound of the festival being in full swing colored the mildly humid night, bringing life and excitement to the otherwise stifling setting around the youngest member of the Rengoku family.

Ran held tightly to her father’s right hand, looking up at him expectantly as he brought the hashimaki up to his mouth and took a bite out of the lukewarm— and savory— treat. “Papa, don’t eat everything!”

His daughter’s quiet outburst had Kyōjurō laughing— making a few people look over at him, before dismissing him as another one of those happy-go-lucky festival goers. He then decided to humor his little princess, stooping low enough to that he could bring the snack down to her lips. And, in a heartbeat, she took a huge bite out of the savory treat— making sure to get as much of the katsuoboshi as she could.

The four year-old’s actions had Kyōjurō’s eyes widening, as he watched his tiny and adorable daughter fit the huge bite of hashimaki in her mouth. Her cheeks even puffed up with how much she’d eaten, yet she still shot him a wide grin that could only make him chuckle.

Then, with a sigh, he tried not to eye the half eaten taiyaki that was still in Ran’s right hand— not to mention the tiny bag that hung from the crook of her arm, which still had five more of the fish-shaped sweets.

When his wife sees just how much food they got, he had no doubt that she would get mad at him again. All because he liked to spoil Ran.

In his defense, she was his little angel— so he wanted to dote on her as much as he could, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have the means to do so. If Ran wished, he could buy out all of the food stalls in the area; but he wouldn’t do that, all because of his wife (Y/n).

Kyōjurō had faced so many tough demons in his years of being a Slayer, but none of them could match up to (Y/n)— especially when she started wielding her sandal around. Once that came off, it was time to hide; that was for sure.

A chuckle bubbled free from his lips at the thought, and it had Ran looking up at him once more as she continued to chew through the food in her mouth. However, when she swallowed it, she instantly brought the taiyaki to her lips and took a bite out of it— before offering it up to Kyōjurō. “Does papa want some?”

The plastic bag that hung from the crook of her arm made a crinkling sound as it swung with her movements— hitting the top of the Flame Hashira’s knee as Ran held it up as best as she could.

“Maybe later, princess,” Kyōjurō answered with a grin, just as he finished the last of the hashimaki on the stick and tossed it into a trash bin. “Thank you.”

He didn’t miss the minute frown that briefly graced his daughter’s lips, however; and it had Kyōjurō chewing faster before swallowing what was in his mouth. And in a move that he’d done so many times before, he scooped Ran up into his arms and grinned at her.

Just as he’d intended, his little girl let out a peal of laughter that warmed his heart— tapering his grin down into a soft, satisfied smile that he didn’t even bother to hide from her.

“On second thought, can I have some? Papa’s already hungry again.” He really wasn’t hungry, but the bright expression that graced Ran’s face made the white lie worth saying in the first place.

She didn’t fail him; holding up the red bean filled pastry to his mouth, and holding it there as he took a generous bite out of it.

“Umai!” The Hashira cried out with a grin, as he held his daughter tighter— especially when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The rest of their walk was wordless after that, filled instead with the sounds of taiko drums in the distance, as well as the quiet sounds of them going through most of the taiyaki that they’d gotten earlier.

Kyōjurō was sure of the probability that he’d stained his yukata with the red bean filling, but he paid no mind to it as he looked over his daughter’s pink one— which had the same flame patterns as his red one had— and deemed it clean enough to pass his wife’s muster later.

All they had to do at that point was to wait for her by the river— since she had to get the mini silk bags that she so adored from the merchant stalls on the other side of the bank. They had decided to split up, since there were much more people there— and it wasn’t really ideal to bring Ran to a much more crowded area.

And so, without anywhere else to sit, Kyōjurō set Ran down on the fence that lined the edge of the river— not once loosening his arms around her, and even leaning forward so he could press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Papa?” The little girl asked softly.

In response, the Hashira pulled a little bit away from her so he could see her face beneath the dim glow of the paper lanterns above them. “Hm?”

“What’s Tanabata?”

Kyōjurō had to really stop and think about it— all while thinking if he had already told the story to Ran. But when he concluded that he had never told her the story before, he answered confidently, “Well, it’s the story of how me and your mama met.”

The little girl gasped at that, complete awe in her features; looking as if it was her father whom had hung up all of the stars in the sky just for her. It had him feeling a little out of sorts, yet extremely content as he smiled down at Ran.

“Really? How! How did you and mama meet? Please tell me, papa!”

The young man chuckled at that, then answered indulgently, “Well, back then— a long time before you were born— your mama was a princess named Orihime. She loved to weave, and it was her job to make pretty clothes for all of the gods in heaven. She would always weave by the river called Amanogawa, and she was happy for a while— until she got sad, because she felt lonely. Orihime wanted to get married and have a family, but she couldn’t do that because she didn’t have any new people to meet.”

Ran was so engrossed in the story, hanging on to her father’s every word and nodding along as Kyōjurō continued his tale.

“Then one day, Orihime’s father introduced her to me. Back then, people called me Hikoboshi; and my job was to herd cattle,” He smiled at that, then picked up the story once more, “Your mama was the most beautiful lady I’d ever seen in my life. Her smile was so warm and breathtaking, and everything about her was so perfect. So I asked her to marry me then and there.”

The Rengoku patriarch suppressed a laugh at the memory of him actually proposing marriage to (Y/n) the first time he saw her, and shook his head to clear out the memory of the humorous rejection that she had answered him with. Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the adorable way that she looked as she stuttered out her words.

“We were so happy with each other that we forgot to do our duties. Orihime stopped weaving, and Hikoboshi stopped tending to the cattle; so all of the cows were loose up in heaven. The gods didn’t like that at all, so Orihime’s father separated us,” He sighed wistfully at that, remembering his own struggles when his father-in-law tried to take (Y/n) away from him; all because of his dangerous occupation. “We couldn’t see each other, because I was put on the other side of Amanogawa— but your grandfather agreed to let me and your mama meet on the seventh day of the seventh month of every year. Only, there wasn’t a bridge to let your mama cross over to me.”

“Oh no, papa! Did you swim?” Ran sounded so troubled by it, which made Kyōjurō feel a little bad for stretching the truth as far as he did. But it was too late to take it back at that point, so he just continued, after shaking his head.

“Your mama was crying so much, that it summoned a flock of crows. And they became a bridge that let us meet every year; but when it rained, your mama and I can only look at each other— and wish that we were together.”

“But it’s different now, right? You and mama live together now! Right, papa?” There were tears building up in the corners of Ran’s eyes, which Kyōjurō made disappear by pressing butterfly kisses all over his daughter’s cheeks and forehead— as well as her eyelids, when she’d closed her eyes to will her own tears away.

“Yeah, it’s different now, because we have you,” He reassured softly, all while pulling away the tiniest bit and smiling down at Ran. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and your mama; our little Ran-chan.”

At that, Kyōjurō pulled his daughter into his arms once more; tucking her head beneath his chin and taking comfort in the way that her tiny arms hugged him in return. He’d thought that moment couldn’t have gotten any better, yet it did when he looked up and spotted his wife crossing the bridge from the other side of the river.

The smitten smile that made its way onto his lips was inevitable; all he could do was succumb to the butterflies in his stomach that fluttered up to his chest, which had his heart feeling so full of love— both for Ran and (Y/n).

And when (Y/n) smiled at him as she stood at the very middle of the bridge, the Flame Hashira found himself whispering, “I love you” right as he looked into those eyes that he loved so much.

(Y/n) couldn’t suppress her answering grin as she read her husband’s lips; watching him as he patted down their daughter’s unruly hair, while his gaze stayed right on her.

However, just as she was about to answer, the wind picked up and had her hair whip around her face— causing her to lift a hand up and tuck the unruly strands behind her left ear. And, instead of answering with a verbal reply, the young woman merely took the hand that she’d used to tidy her hair up, then pressed a kiss to her fingers before blowing it right towards her husband.

Of course, in typical Kyōjurō fashion, he pretended to catch (Y/n)’s kiss with one hand— right before pressing his own fingers to his lips.

Theirs was not a story exactly like Orihime and Hikoboshi’s, but it was something that was much better; much more intricate, and much more special since they were the ones that had tailored it, after all. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

#rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #kny rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku family #demon slayer scenarios #demon slayer imagines #kny imagines #jen writes

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thedoctorcried · 3 years

Text

Runaway - Part Eighteen

~Masterlist~

Concept: Hazel Richards is a twenty-year-old woman living in London. When she meets a mysterious time-travelling alien known only as the Hunter, she’s thrust into a world of wonder she could only have imagined.

Warnings: swearing, follows S1 of Doctor Who.

"You know the Hunter," the nearest Dalek to Hazel stated, swivelling to face her. "You understand her. You will predict her actions."

"I don't know," Hazel told it. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Predict! Predict! Predict!" the Dalek ordered.

"TARDIS detected in flight."

"Launch missiles. Exterminate!"

"You can't!" Hazel protested, her eyes widening. "The TARDIS hasn't got any defences. You're going to kill her!"

The Dalek looked at her. "You have predicted correctly."

***

"We've got incoming!" Jack announced, seeing the missiles on the monitor. They struck the TARDIS, but inside, they felt little more than a minor jolt. He grinned. "The extrapolator's working. We've got a fully functional forcefield. Try saying that when you're drunk."

The Hunter smiled at him from across the console. "And for my next trick." She materialised the TARDIS around Hazel, trying not to get any Daleks too. As it was, only one was in the TARDIS. "Haze, get down! Get down, Haze!"

Hazel hit the deck, and the Dalek's head and body swivelled round to look at the Hunter. "Exterminate!" She ducked, making it miss, and Jack took it out with his Defabricator.

"You did it," Hazel breathed, hugging the Hunter tightly. "Feels like I haven't seen you in years."

"I told you I'd come and get you," the Hunter reminded her.

"Never doubted it," Hazel smiled.

"I did," the Hunter admitted, pulling back to look her over. "You all right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "You?"

The Hunter blew out a breath shakily. "Been better."

"Hey, don't I get a hug?" Jack complained.

Hazel grinned. "Oh, come here!"

"I was talking to her," Jack joked, but hugged her. "Welcome home, Jules."

"Oh, I thought I'd never see you again," Hazel sighed, grinning.

Jack scoffed. "Oh, you were lucky. That was just a one shot wonder. Drained the gun of all its power supply. Now it's just a piece of junk." He tossed the Defabricator aside, and they went over to the Hunter, who was watching the smoking remains of the Dalek wistfully.

"You said they were extinct," Hazel said, putting her hand on her arm. "How comes they're still alive?"

"One minute they're the greatest threat in the universe, the next minute they vanished out of time and space," Jack added.

"They went off to fight a bigger war," the Hunter told him. "The Time War."

Jack's eyes widened. "I thought that was just a legend."

The Hunter shook her head, putting her hand over Hazel's. "I was there. The war between the Daleks and the Time Lords, with the whole of creation at stake. My people were destroyed, but they took the Daleks with them. I almost thought it was worth it. Now it turns out they died for nothing."

Hazel bit her lip. "There's thousands of them now. We could hardly stop one. What're we going to do?"

There was a long pause in which none of them said a word. Hazel and Jack were waiting for the Hunter to think of something, hoping she could save them. The Hunter was watching them with wide eyes, wondering how these two beautiful, brilliant humans were so prepared to fight a losing battle with her. Barely a year ago, Hazel had been a normal human girl, living with a man who wasn't even really her brother. Not six months ago, Jack had been a coward, a conman, a crook. And now the pair of them were stepping up to try and save the world, maybe even the universe, against a race of creatures thriving on hate and murder. It was a losing battle, but there was no one else she'd rather fight it with. If only Apollo were there to make it even better.

She took a deep breath, then grinned at them. "No good stood round here chin-wagging. Human race, you'd gossip all day. The Daleks have got the answers. Let's go and meet the neighbours."

Hazel's eyes widened as the Hunter headed for the door. "You can't go out there!"

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

The Hunter stepped out of the TARDIS, rolling her eyes as the Dalek rays were stopped by the extrapolator forcefield. "Seriously? Is that it? Useless! Nul points." She turned around and beckoned Hazel and Jack out. "It's all right, come on out. That forcefield can hold back anything."

"Almost anything," Jack corrected, then winced at the look the Hunter shot him.

"Gee, Jack, I wonder what it was I wasn't going to tell them? Oh, wait."

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the Daleks. "Do you know what they call me in the ancient legends of the Dalek Homeworld? The Bringer of Darkness. You might've removed all your emotions but I reckon right down deep in your DNA, there's one little spark left, and that's fear. Doesn't it just burn when you face me? So tell me. How did you survive the Time War?"

"They survived through me." The lights came on to reveal a giant opened Dalek casing, the inner one-eyed mutant sitting as if on its throne.

"Haze, Captain, this is the Emperor of the Daleks," the Hunter introduced, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

"You destroyed us, Hunter. The Dalek race died in your inferno, but my ship survived, falling through time, crippled but alive," the Emperor stated.

"I get it," the Hunter nodded.

"Do not interrupt."

The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "I think you're forgetting something. I'm the Hunter, and if there's one thing I can do, it's talk. I've got five billion languages, and you haven't got one way of stopping me. So if anybody here's going to be shutting up, it's you!" She smirked as the Daleks backed away. "So, where were we?"

"We waited here in the dark space, damaged but rebuilding," the Emperor explained. "Centuries passed, and we quietly infiltrated the systems of Earth, harvesting the waste of humanity. The prisoners, the refugees, the dispossessed. They all came to us. The bodies were filtered, pulped, sifted. The seed of the human race is perverted. Only one cell in a billion was fit to be nurtured."

"So you created an army of Daleks out of the dead," the Hunter realised, disgusted.

"That makes them half human," Hazel pointed out.

"Those words are blasphemy!" the Emperor decreed.

"Do not blaspheme."

"Everything human has been purged. I cultivated pure and blessed Dalek," the Emperor stated.

The Hunter frowned. "Since when did the Daleks have a concept of blasphemy?"

"I reached into the dirt and made new life. I am the God of all Daleks!"

"Worship him."

"They're insane," the Hunter realised. "Hiding in silence for hundreds of years, that's enough to drive anyone mad. But it's worse than that. Driven mad by your own flesh. The stink of humanity. You hate your own existence. And that makes them more deadly than ever. We're going."

"You may not leave my presence," the Emperor forbade.

"Toodle-oo!" the Hunter waved, then shut the door behind her, Hazel, and Jack. She leant her forehead against the door for a long moment, sighing. She looked down as a hand slipped into hers, and managed a smile, squeezing gently.

***

"Turn everything up!" the Hunter ordered as soon as she exited the TARDIS on Floor Five Hundred. "All transmitters full power, wide open. Now! Do it!"

"What does this do?" Pavale asked, even as he did as told.

"Stops the Daleks from transmatting on board," the Hunter replied. "How did you get on? Did you contact Earth?"

Pavale bit his lip. "Well, we tried to warn them, but all they did was suspend our license because we stopped the programmes."

The Hunter sighed. "And the planet's just sitting there, defenceless." She blinked, seeing a familiar blonde working at a console to up the transmitters. "Lynda, what're you still doing on board? I told you to evacuate everyone."

"She wouldn't go," Pavale muttered.

Lynda blushed. "Didn't want to leave you."

Another woman scoffed. "There weren't enough shuttles anyway, or I wouldn't be here. We've got about a hundred people stranded on Floor Zero."

Pavale blanched looking at his computer screen. "Oh my God. The Fleet is moving. They're on their way."

The Hunter sprung into action, talking as she started building something, pulling things out of the conduits to make it with. "Dalek plan. Big mistake, because what have they left me with? Anyone? Anyone? Oh, come on, it's obvious. A great big transmitter. This station. If I can change the signal, fold it back, sequence it, anyone?"

Jack's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding."

"Give the man a medal!"

"A Delta Wave?" Jack asked.

The Hunter grinned. "A Delta Wave!"

Hazel frowned. "What's a Delta Wave?"

"A wave of Van Cassadyne energy," Jack replied. "It fries your brain. Stand in the way of a Delta Wave and your head gets barbequed."

"And this place can transmit a massive wave," the Hunter added. "Wipe out the Daleks!"

"Well, get started and do it then," Lynda encouraged.

The Hunter bit her lip. "Trouble is, wave this size, building this big, brain as clever as mine, should take about...ooh, three days? How long till the Fleet arrive?"

"Twenty two minutes," Pavale answered, blanching.

***

Jack stood up a while later after helping the Hunter to start building the basics of the Delta Wave. "We've now got a forcefield so they can't blast us out of the sky, but that doesn't stop the Daleks from physically invading."

"Do they know about the Delta Wave?" Pavale asked.

"They'll have worked it out at the same time," Jack confirmed. "So, they want to stop the Hunter. That means they've got to get to this level, Five Hundred. Now, I can concentrate the extrapolator around the top six levels, Five Hundred to Four Ninety Five. So they'll penetrate the station below that at level Four Ninety Four and fight their way up."

"Who are they fighting?" Pavale questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Us," Jack deadpanned.

Pavale sighed. "And what are we fighting with?"

"The guards had guns with bastic bullets," Jack replied. "That's enough to blow a Dalek wide open."

"There's five of us," one woman protested.

"Haze, you can help me," the Hunter requested hastily. "I need all these wires stripping bare."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Right, now there's four of us."

"Then let's move it," Jack ordered. "Into the lift. Isolate the lift controls." Pavale and his colleague ran off, leaving just Jack, Lynda, the Hunter, and Hazel.

"I just want to say, well, thanks, I suppose, and I'll do my best," Lynda said, shrugging.

"Me too," the Hunter agreed. They shook hands, and she went to the lifts.

Jack sighed, looking between them. "It's been fun, but I guess this is goodbye."

"Don't talk like that," Hazel told him. "Artie's going to do it. You just watch her."

He hugged her. "Jules, you are worth fighting for." He kissed her, making her roll her eyes. Then he moved onto the Hunter, who made an effort to smile. "Wish I'd never met you, Queenie. I was much better off as a coward." He kissed her, too. He laughed a little as he pulled back, seeing the way they were both looking at him, like they couldn't bear him to go. "See you in hell." He jogged off, knowing that if he stayed any longer, they'd persuade him not to go.

Hazel bit her lip. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?"

The Hunter sighed, watching him go. "I hope so."

***

Jack climbed up to stand on a pile of crates on Floor Zero, firing a machine gun into the air to get everyone's attention. "One last time! Any more volunteers? There's an army about to invade this station. I need every last citizen to mount a defence."

"Don't listen to him!" Rodrick shouted. "There aren't any Daleks. They disappeared thousands of years ago."

"Thanks," Jack nodded as one of the workers volunteered. "As for the rest of you, the Daleks will enter the station at Floor Four Ninety Four and as far as I can tell, they'll head up, not down. But that's not a promise. So here's a few words of advice. Keep quiet. And if you hear fighting up above, if you hear us dying, then tell me that the Daleks aren't real. Don't make a sound." He turned back to his team, jumping down off the box. "Let's go." They got into the lift.

***

"Suppose..." Hazel began, then shook her head, going back to the wires she was stripping.

"What?" the Hunter asked, making connections to build the wave.

"Nothing."

The Hunter glanced up at her. "You said suppose."

"No, I was just thinking," Hazel shrugged. "I mean, obviously you can't, but you've got a time machine. Why can't you just go back to last week and warn them?"

"As soon as the TARDIS lands in that second, I become part of events, stuck in the timeline," the Hunter explained.

Hazel nodded, sighing. "Yeah, thought it'd be something like that."

"There's another thing the TARDIS could do," the Hunter suggested. "She could take us away. We could leave. Let history take its course. We could go to Marbella in 1989."

"Yeah, but you'd never do that," Hazel pointed out.

"No, but you could ask." The Hunter smiled at Hazel's surpised expression, shaking her head. "Never even occurred to you, did it?"

"Well, I'm just too good," Hazel shrugged, grinning.

The Hunter looked up as a computer bleeped. "The Delta Wave's started building. How long does it need?" She ran over to the console, Hazel following, unable to make sense of what was on screen.

"Is that bad?" she asked, then caught sight of the Hunter's pale expression. "Okay, it's bad. How bad is it?"

"Hazel Norton, you're a genius!" the Hunter declared suddenly. "We can do it. If I use the TARDIS to cross my old timeline..." She pretended to think, then grinned. "Yes!" She ushered Hazel into the TARDIS and pointed to a lever. "Hold that down and keep it in position."

Hazel did so, grinning at her enthusiasm. "What's it do?"

"Cancels the buffers," the Hunter lied. "If I'm very clever - and I'm more than clever, I'm brilliant - I might just save the world." She paused. "Or rip it apart."

"I'd go for the first one," Hazel said, making a face.

"Me too," the Hunter admitted, grinning. "Now, I've just got to go and power up the Game Station. Hold on!" She ran out, and stopped, the doors swinging shut behind her. She buzzed her sonic screwdriver and the engines started.

"Art, what're you doing?" Hazel called from inside. "Can I take my hand off? It's moving." There was a banging on the door. "Artie, let me out! Let me out! Artie, what've you done?" The Hunter closed her eyes briefly as the TARDIS dematerialised. At least she was safe.

***

Inside, Hazel whipped around as she heard a familiar voice, only to curse when she saw the Hunter was just a hologram. "This is Emergency Programme One. Hazel, please, listen, this is important. If this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing. We must be in danger. And I mean fatal. I'm dead or about to die any second with no chance of escape."

"No!" Hazel cried.

"And that's okay," the Hunter smiled. "Hope it's a good death. But I promised to look after you, and that's what I'm doing. The TARDIS is taking you home."

"I won't let you!" Hazel started fiddling with the controls, to no effect.

"And I bet you're fussing and moaning now. I'm flattered, really, I am. But hold on and just listen a bit more. The TARDIS can never return for me. Emergency Programme One means I'm facing an enemy that should never get their hands on this machine. So this is what you should do. Let the TARDIS die. Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open her. No one'll even notice her. Let her become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world'll move on, and the box will be buried. And if you want to remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all, just one thing." And the hologram suddenly turned so the Hunter was staring directly into Hazel's eyes, and the human girl saw something in her eyes stronger than anything she'd ever seen before. "Have a good life. Do that for me, Haze. Have a fantastic life." The hologram flickered out, and Hazel made a noise like a strangled cat.

"You can't do this to me!" she shrieked. "You can't! Take me back! Take me back!" She looked up as the engines stopped. "No!" She ran outside, only to see the Powell Estate, then ran back in. "Come on, fly! How do you fly? Come on, help me!" Eventually, she gave up and slumped against the outside of the box, tears pouring down her cheeks.

"I knew it!" Mike shouted, running up to her. "I was all the way down Clifton Parade, and I heard the engines. I thought, there's only one thing that makes a noise like that." He paused, noticing her distress. "What is it?"

She just buried her head in her arms, crying her heart out.

***

"Jules, I've called up the internal laser codes," Jack called through the comms system, making the Hunter look up from her work to the viewscreen he was on. "There should be a different number on every screen. Can you read them out to me?"

"She's not here," the Hunter told him.

Jack groaned. "Of all the times to take a leak. When she gets back, tell her to read me the codes."

"She's not coming back," the Hunter shook her head, looking away.

He frowned. "What do you mean? Where'd she go?"

"Just get on with your work," she ordered.

"You took her home, didn't you," he realised.

She nodded, meeting his eyes. "Yeah."

"The Delta Wave, is it ever going to be ready?" Jack asked.

The Dalek Emperor appeared on a second viewscreen. "Tell him the truth, Hunter. There is every possibility the Delta Wave could be complete, but no possibility of refining it. The Delta Wave must kill every living thing in its path, with no distinction between human and Dalek. All things will die by your hand."

"Queenie, the range of this transmitter covers the entire Earth," Jack warned.

"You would destroy Daleks and Humans together," the Emperor sneered. "If I am God, the creator of all things, then what does that make you, Hunter?"

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "There are colonies out there. The Human Race would survive in some shape or form, but you're the only Daleks in existence. The whole universe is in danger if I let you live. Do you see, Jack? That's the decision I've got to make for every living thing. Die as a human, or live as a Dalek." She met his eyes. "What would you do?"

Jack hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "You sent her home. She's safe. Keep working."

"But she will exterminate you!" the Emperor exclaimed.

Jack smirked. "Never doubted her. Never will." He ended the transmission.

"Now you tell me, God of all Daleks, because there's one thing I never worked out," the Hunter admitted. "The words Bad Wolf, spread across time and space, everywhere, drawing me in. How'd you manage that?"

"I did nothing," the Emperor told her.

"Oh, come on, there's no secrets now, your worship," she goaded.

"They are not part of my design. This is the Truth of God," it stated.

The Hunter swallowed, moving her gaze to the Bad Wolf Corporation sign on the wall. What are you, Bad Wolf?

***

Jason and Mike were eating their meals out of the polystyrene containers they had been sold them in at a café, keeping Hazel company.

"And it's gone up market, this place," Jason was saying. "They're doing little tubs of coleslaw now." He made a face. "It's not very nice. It tastes a bit sort of clinical."

"Have you tried that new pizza place down Minto Road?" Mike suggested.

"What's it selling?" Jason asked, eyeing Hazel worriedly.

"Pizza," Mike deadpanned.

"That's nice," Jason nodded. "Do they deliver?"

"Yeah."

Jason sighed. "Oh, Haze, have something to eat, please."

She scowled, making no efforts to conceal the tear tracks on her face. "Two hundred thousand years in the future, she's dying, and there's nothing I can do."

"Well, like you said, two hundred thousand years," Jason shrugged. "It's a way off."

"But it's not," Hazel protested. "It's now. That fight is happening right now, and she's fighting for us, for the whole planet, and I'm just sitting here eating chips!"

Jason shook his head. "Listen to me. God knows I have hated that woman, but right now, I love her, and do you know why? Because she did the right thing. She sent you back to me."

"But what do I do every day, Jace? What do I do?" Hazel asked. "Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home, eat chips, and go to bed? Is that it?"

"It's what the rest of us do," Mike pointed out.

"But I can't!" she protested.

"Why, because you're better than us?" he raised his eyebrows.

"No, I didn't mean that," she said quickly. "But it was... It was a better life. And I don't mean all the travelling and seeing aliens and spaceships and things. That don't matter. Artie showed me a better way of living your life." She nudged Mike. "You know, she showed you too. That you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away, and I just can't -" She suddenly jumped to her feet and ran out of the café, tears brimming over.

***

"Right, Lynda, you are my eyes and ears," Jack stated, flashing a smile even though he knew she couldn't see him. "When the Daleks get in, you can follow it on that screen and report it to me."

"Understood," Lynda nodded.

"They'll detect you, but the door's made of Hydra Combination. It should keep them out," Jack told her.

"Should?" she echoed.

"It's the best I can do," he winced. "How long till the Fleet arrives?"

"They've accelerated," Pavale replied.

Jack bit his lip. "This is it, ladies and gentlemen. We are at war!"

***

"You can't spend the rest of your life thinking about the Hunter," Mike tried, sitting next to Hazel near the Powell Estate.

"But how do I forget her?" Hazel asked, sniffing.

"You've got to start living your own life," he advised. "You know, a proper life, like the kind she's never had. The sort of life that you could have with me."

Hazel looked away, shaking her head, then her eyes widened as she saw 'BAD WOLF' graffitied across the tarmac of the play area. "Over here," she whispered. "It's over here as well!"

"That's been there for years," Mike told her dismissively. "It's just a phrase. It's just words."

"I thought it was a warning," Hazel continued, ignoring him as she wiped her cheeks impatiently, a smile beginning to blossom on her face. "Maybe it's the opposite. Maybe it's a message. The same words written down now and two hundred thousand years in the future. It's a link between me and Artie. Bad Wolf here, Bad Wolf there."

Mike shook his head. "But if it's a message, what's it saying?"

"It's telling me I can get back," Hazel realised, starting to grin. "The least I can do is help her escape." She ran back into the TARDIS, Mike at her heels. "All the TARDIS needs to do is make a return trip. Just reverse."

"Yeah, but we still can't do it," Mike pointed out.

"Artie always said the TARDIS was telepathic. This ship is alive. She can listen," Hazel explained.

"Yeah, well, she's not listening now, is she?" Mike shrugged.

"We need to get inside," Hazel decided. "Last time I saw you, with the Slitheen, this middle bit opened and there was this light, and Artie said it was the heart of the TARDIS. If we can open it, I can make contact. I can tell her what to do."

"Hazel," Mike said quietly.

"Hmm?" She turned to look at him, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"If you go back, you're going to die," he said.

She bit her lip. "That's a risk I've got to take, because there's nothing left for me here."

"Nothing?" Mike checked.

"Not without her," Hazel shook her head.

Mike was silent for a minute, then nodded. "Okay, if that's what you think, let's get this thing open."

***

"Okay, activate internal lasers," Jack ordered. "Slice them up."

"Defences have gone offline," Lynda reported. "The Dalek's have overridden the lot." She winced as she heard the firing of guns, then a woman screaming out in pain as she died.

***

Mike had fastened a heavy chain to the tow hitch on his Mini, with the other end attached to the TARDIS console. He drove forwards slowly, trying to pull it open.

"Faster!" Hazel encouraged.

"Come on!" Mike growled.

"It's not moving!" Hazel called. Suddenly, the chain snapped, and she kicked the console on frustration.

***

"Advance guard have made it to Four Ninety Five," Lynda reported.

"Jack, how're we doing?" the Hunter asked.

"Four Ninety Five should be good," Jack shrugged. "I like Four Ninety Five."

The Anne Droid destroyed a few Daleks, but then its head was shot off and it deactivated.

"They're flying up the ventilation shafts," Lynda stated, then gasped. "No, wait a minute. Oh my God. Why're they doing that? They're going down." She heard screams through the comms, and turned off the sound from the bottom floor. "Floor Zero," she whispered. "They killed them all."

***

"It was never going to work, sweetheart," Jason soothed, his arm around Hazel as she wept in the jump seat. "And the Hunter knew that. She just wanted you to be safe."

"I can't give up," Hazel wept.

"Lock to door," Jason urged. "Walk away."

"I can't!" Hazel insisted. "I... I think I love her."

Jason froze. "What do you mean?"

"She took me to see Mum and Dad, back before it all went to shit," Hazel told him. "And I - I couldn't deal with it and I just broke down, and - and she could have just left me alone, but she came and comforted me and held me till I fell asleep and I just realised - she's been doing it all along, looking after me, and I never recognised it or anything, but I just love her!" She sniffed, wiping her cheeks. "I can't just leave her there to die!"

"She was saving your life!"

"Why won't you let me save hers?!" Hazel shot back.

Jason looked at her, his eyes wide. "Because she and I have an agreement that you come first." He stormed out, leaving her staring after him.

***

"Lynda!" the Hunter called. "What's happening on Earth?"

"The Fleet's descending," Lynda replied. "They're bombing whole continents. Europa, Pacifica, the New American Alliance. Australasia's just gone."

***

Mike sighed, biting his lip as Hazel came out of the TARDIS, her face tearstained. "There's got to be something else we can do."

"Maybe Jace was right," Hazel sighed, wiping a hand over her face. "Maybe we should just lock the door and walk away."

"I'm not having that," Mike decided, shaking his head. "I'm not having you just, just give up now. No way. We just need something stronger than my car. Something bigger." He turned, and his eyes widened. "Something like that!" Hazel turned to follow his gaze, and they were both confronted with a big yellow recovery truck coming round the corner.

Jason got out, handing the keys over. "Right, you've only got this until six o'clock, so get on with it."

Hazel's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Jace, where the hell did you get that from?"

"Rodrigo," her brother replied. "He owes me a favour. Never mind why, but you were right, sweetheart. You come first, always, and I'm not letting you suffer while she gets herself killed. Now, get on with it before I change my mind." Mickey climbed up into the cabin.

***

"I've got a problem," Lynda called, sounding scared. "They've found me."

"You'll be all right, Lynda," the Hunter assured her, biting her lip. "That side of the station's reinforced against meteors."

"Hope so!" Lynda chuckled. "You know what they say about Earth workmanship." Then there was the sound of glass shattering, and she screamed just once before the line went dead. The Hunter bowed her head.

"Last man standing!" Jack shouted, from just around the corner, making the Time Lady look up sharply. "For God's sake, Queenie, finish that thing and kill them!"

"Finish that thing and kill mankind," the Emperor countered.

***

"Keep going!" Hazel shouted from inside the TARDIS as she watched the chain strain against the console.

"Put your foot down!" Jason relayed from outdoors.

"Faster!"

"Give it some more, Mikey!"

"Keep going!"

"Come on, come on!"

"Keep going!"

"Give it some more!"

The console burst open, and Hazel looked into it, golden energy streaming into her eyes.

"Haze!" Mickey shouted, but she clicked her fingers, and the TARDIS doors slammed shut in his face. She smiled as the TARDIS began to dematerialise, piloting her thousands of years into the future to save the Hunter.

***

"Queenie, you've got twenty seconds maximum!" Jack shouted. He ran out of bullets in his machine gun, and threw it aside, switching to a pistol, which was also empty.

"Exterminate!" the Dalek pursuing him stated.

He rolled his eyes. "I kind of figured that." The blast threw him back into the lift, and Captain Jack Harkness died in the knowledge that they'd at least saved Hazel.

"It's ready!" the Hunter called, before the Daleks entered from all sides. Her blood ran cold as she got no answer, realising what must have happened. "You really want to think about this, because if I activate the signal, every living creature dies."

"I am immortal," the Emperor stated.

"Do you want to put that to the test?" the Hunter snarled, narrowing her eyes.

"I want to see you become like me," the Emperor countered. "Hail the Hunter, the Great Exterminator."

"I'll do it!" she threatened.

"Then prove yourself, Hunter," the Emperor challanged. "What are you, coward or killer?"

The Hunter tensed, her mind full of the names of everyone she knew who'd died today, Jack's name right at the top of that list, urging her to do it, to kill the Daleks once and for all. But then another name came into her mind - a pure name, full of memories of happiness and laughter, and love. Hazel. The Hunter remembered the shock in her eyes when she'd threatened to kill just one Dalek, and suddenly she found herself unable to throw the final lever, despite what the Daleks had done to everything she loved. "Coward," she whispered. "Any day."

The Emperor seemed pleased. "Mankind will be harvested because of your weakness."

"And what about me?" the Hunter asked dully. "Am I becoming one of your angels?"

"You are the heathen," the Emperor informed her. "You will be exterminated."

"Maybe it's time," the Hunter sighed, kneeling and closing her eyes. She could've sworn she could hear the TARDIS' engines, but it was probably just her memories.

"Alert!" a Dalek cried, and her eyes shot open. "TARDIS materialising."

The Hunter got to her feet as the ship landed, turning to see the doors open and reveal a bright golden light. A humanoid shape was silhouetted in the doorway, and as the light dimmed, the Hunter realised who it was. "What've you done?" she cried.

"I looked into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS looked into me," Hazel replied, her voice echoing unnaturally.

The Hunter's eyes widened. "You looked into the Time Vortex. Haze, no one's meant to see that!"

"This is the Abomination!" the Emperor declared.

"Exterminate!"

Hazel lifted a hand casually, and the beam shattered upon impact. "I am Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words; I scatter them in time and space. A message to lead myself here."

"Hazel, you've got to stop this," the Hunter pleaded. "You've got to stop this now. You've got the entire vortex running through your head. You're going to burn!"

Hazel looked at her, her eyes shining with loving tears. "I want you safe. My Artemis. Protected from the false god." Her voice caught.

"You cannot hurt me," the Emperor scoffed. "I am immortal."

"You are tiny," Hazel corrected. "I can see the whole of time and space. Every single atom of your existence, and I divide them." She lowered her hand, and a nearby Dalek disintegrated slowly. "Everything must come to dust. All things. Everything dies. The Time War ends."

The Daleks crumbled to the ground.

"I will not die!" the Emperor cried, even as he, too, disintegrated. "I cannot die!"

The Hunter watched with wide eyes as the entire spaceship turned to dust. "Haze, you've done it. Now stop. Just let go."

"How can I let go of this?" Hazel laughed - a soft, tinkling melody that sounded nothing like her usual giggle. "I bring life."

There was a loud gasp from the corridor as Jack came back to life. The Hunter glanced over, a look of consternation on her face. "But this is wrong! You can't control life and death!"

"But I can," Hazel assured her. "The sun and the moon, and the day and night." She sighed blissfully, before wincing, her face contorting in pain. "But why do they hurt?"

"The power's going to kill you and it's all my fault," the Hunter realised, covering her mouth in horror.

"I can see everything," Hazel breathed. "All that is, all that was, all that ever could be."

"That's what I see," the Hunter told her softly. "All the time. And doesn't it drive you mad?"

"My head," Hazel groaned, swaying slightly.

"Come here," the Hunter whispered, holding her arms out towards her.

"It's killing me," Hazel whimpered in realisation, stumbling towards the Time Lady.

The Hunter smiled down at her as she supported Hazel in her arms. A tear rolled down her cheek, splashing down to join the many already adorning Hazel's cheeks. The Hunter sniffed, smiling, and wiped them away with her thumb. "Oh, Hazie..." She sighed happily. "I think I need you." She leaned down and kissed her, their eyes both closing as she started to pull the vortex from Hazel's mind. When the golden energy had transferred across completely, Hazel gasped slightly, her eyes opening. The Hunter pulled away, smiling gently at her through her tears. Hazel managed a small smile back before she fainted in her arms.

The Hunter carried her into the TARDIS, setting her down on the jump seat carefully before exhaling the energy back into the ship. The doors closed, and the TARDIS dematerialised, leaving one revived man stranded on a satellite full of corpses.

~~~

If you enjoyed, please like and/or reblog, and consider donating to my Kofi to help me keep writing! Thanks for reading :)

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #gxg #lgbt #captain jack harkness #tardis #time lady #series #oc insert #thedoctorcried #slow burn

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frywen-bumbles · 3 years

Text

The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch4

AO3

"Why do you seem so gloomy, I thought your thesis was going well?" Essi asks him.

"It's about cat daddy, isn't it?" Pricilla asks and drowns her second glass of wine.

"No! No, of course not. Roach got the zoomies at four am and I couldn't fall asleep afterwards." Jaskier lies. Well, technically it isn't a lie. Roach did, in fact, get zoomies in the middle of the night but his gloominess has nothing to do with being tired.

"Trouble in paradise then?" Pricilla winks at him.

"There is no paradise!" Jaskier cries out and throws his hands in the air in frustration. Friends, he laments. Can't live with them and can't live without them.

"So it is about cat daddy," Essi concludes and pats his hand. "I'm sorry for teasing you. Please tell us what is it?"

"I... I don't know?" It's definitely the alcohol talking, Jaskier decides as he sinks further into the couch he has spent countless of nights sleeping in. No way he would talk about his stupid crush sober. "I keep thinking about him and dreaming about him and I haven't even talked to him in person!"

"I'm sure you're not the only person who has managed to develop a massive crush on someone over texts." Pricilla tries to comfort him but the huge grin on her face diminishes the effect.

"I do not have a crush," Jaskier says, like the liar he is.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Essi sings and laughs.

"What are you, five?" Jaskier scoffs.

"Yes, that's exactly how old I am."

"You're impossible. Both of you!" Jaskier points at his best friends in mock offence, trying not to laugh.

"And yet, you still love us!" Pricilla winks at him. Jaskier rolls his eyes.

"I will love you if you pour me another glass of that wine and stop talking." Jaskier waves his empty glass at Pricilla, who fills it with all the possible flourish of an experienced bartender.

"You know she won't shut up," Essi says and waves her glass at Pricilla as well. "Although, I might shut up if you play me something?" she gives him a sweet smile and he groans, throwing his head back.

"Please, Essi... You know I haven't had time to practice in forever..."

"So this is an as good time as any to pick up your guitar again," Pricilla says and hops up from her chair, only slightly wobbly on her feet. "Oh, shit, I think all of the bubbles went straight into my head as soon as I stood up!" she giggles and disappears into a walk-in closet.

"Are you sure that closet doesn't lead straight into Narnia?" Jaskier grumbles without any heat as he hears Pricilla dig around. He's well aware the closet is as full as it is because it's mostly filled with his stuff.

"Oh, imagine all of the storage we had if it did..." Essi sighs wistfully and drains the rest of her glass. "Oh!" she exclaims and sits up straight, "Do you think sorcerers have portals in their closets? Can you imagine how neat that would be?!"

"Oooh, that's why the bastards can afford to live in such fancy places, they can have an apartment the size of a broom closet and store all of their stuff elsewhere!" Priscilla says as she emerges from the closet carrying a slightly battered guitar case.

Jaskier takes the guitar out and tunes it carefully, taking a sip of wine every now and then.

Pricilla and Essi make themselves busy getting more snacks and wine out of their kitchen while waiting for him but he hardly notices their hushed whispers and giggles. The guitar feels so familiar in his hands as he runs his fingers along the varnished wood.

"When you get older, plainer, saner Will you remember all the danger We came from? Burning like embers, falling, tender Longing for the days of no surrender Years ago And will you know

So smoke 'em if you got 'em Cause it's going down All I ever wanted was you I'll never get to heaven Cause I don't know how

Let's raise a glass Or two To all the things I've lost on you Ho, ooh Tell me are they lost on you? Ooh, oh..."

It's only 8 PM, Jaskier laments as he heads back home, definitely too much cheap bubbly wine in his system.

But it was good, spending some time with his friends. To have a chance to talk about everything and just relax without any pressure to write or be productive.

Jaskier opens the door only to find Roach right behind it, screaming at him as soon as she gets a sight of him. Jaskier barely manages to step inside before Roach is running to the kitchen, screaming all the while expecting him to follow.

"I'm not that fast, Roach!" Jaskier shouts after the cat, struggling to get his shoes off when everything in his vision seems to wave quite a bit, his steps still unsteady despite the walk back.

Roach runs back to him and screams, vibrating her tail impatiently and runs back towards the kitchen, stopping to wait for him in the doorway.

"I'm coming, Roach, you'll get your dinner, fuck..." Jaskier stumbles on his shoes and gets an unimpressed look from Roach, "it's not even that late, I never give you dinner this ea- fuck!" He steps on a cat toy and has to take support from the wall.

Roach screams at him again and runs to the kitchen.

"You're going to kill me, you know? Leaving your toys lying around like that..." Jaskier grumbles but follows the cat to the kitchen and digs food for her.

Roach meows and thrills and vibrates her tail stretches against his leg, digging her nails through his jeans into his thigh.

"Ow, ow, ow! Roach! I promise you will not starve to death in thirty seconds, ow!"

Roach doesn't spare him another glance as soon as the food is in front of her.

Nor does she after she has eaten despite her normal insistence of following him everywhere.

One additional drink (one he's sure to regret come morning) Roach is still ignoring him, sitting on the kitchen window with her back on him when usually she sits at the backrest of the sofa or on the cat tree staring at him. Or she sits looking at the door, still visible from the living room, occasionally meowing pitifully.

But today she bristles and runs away from him as soon as he tries to approach, making offended mews.

Jaskier endures being ignored. For an hour (and a few more drinks).

"Roach is angry with me!" Jaskier wails at the phone, "She doesn't even acknowl... ackl... pay attention to me! Whatever shall I do? She's been ignoring me since I got home, I can't take this, I have failed! I'm a hor- horbible... horrible cat sitter. She will never forgive me... it wasn't even her dinner time yet, you know? And still, I'm slighted so terribly! This is a tragedy!"

"Hmm," a deep rumble from the other end of the line makes Jaskier's thoughts come to a screeching halt and he's quite certain he squeaks in shock. "Roach will forgive you in a couple of days."

"Okay, yeah, that's... that's good?" Jaskier says feeling suddenly much more sober than the moment before.

"Just don't do it again tomorrow and you'll be fine," the deep voice rumbles again.

Jaskier is sure he will die.

Of embarrassment or something else, he's not sure. But he. will. die.

"I won't, I promise," Jaskier agrees, probably too fast but he doesn't care. Anything to make the gorgeous man on the other end of the phone to keep talking to him.

"Hmm... she'll sulk in somewhere for tonight. Don't worry about it, she'll be back to pester you first thing in the morning."

Jaskier laughs despite himself. Or maybe it's the alcohol.

"She's not pestering me, she's just very enthusiastic about getting her food on time."

"That she is." The man falls silent for a moment too long for Jaskier to itch to start to babble some nonsense before he continues, "I hope she hasn't caused too much trouble for you. Or tried to bring dead birds inside to eat."

"What? No! Also eww thank the gods not." Jaskier cringes at the mental image of dead birds inside the house.

"That's good. She eats most of them in the yard."

"Okay, I did not need to know that, the cat sleeps in the same bed with me and now you're telling me she eats birds outside? Double eww."

The man has the audacity to laugh. Laugh!

But Jaskier isn't going to complain, he has never heard something as delightful as the deep laugh from the other end of the line.

He wants to hear it again.

And again.

"Um... any other useful tips to please the great beast?"

"Hmm... she likes to be scratched under the chin and behind the ears. But don't touch the base of her tail or she will bite you."

"Duly noted."

"Hmm... Don't feed her too many treats, you'll make her fuzzy."

"I would never- Fiona rattled on me, didn't she?" Jaskier sighs.

The line turns quiet.

"H-hello?" Jaskier looks at his phone but the line hasn't disconnected.

"...You talked with Fiona?"

"She, uh, she texted me first? I've been helping her with her homework?" Jaskier babbles before his brain supplies him with the most important information, "Wait! She told me you gave her permission! Melitele's sake I would have never talked to her if I knew she was doing it behind your back I promise I have no ill intentions I've just helped her with school stuff I swear!"

"Hmm..." a grunt is the only sound Jaskier hears from the other end of the line. He holds his breath. If all comes to worst, he'll be out of work and out of the house tomorrow.

"I'll talk to her. Thank you for helping her with her school, I'm... none of us is very good with that stuff. I guess she needed more help than I realised."

"Oh!" Jaskier tries to contain his surprise but he's not very successful, "No, you shouldn't thank me! Fiona has been nothing but the best student, she's very bright!"

"She is." There is another break at the end of the line and Jaskier is ready to lose his shit. "I'll talk to her about lying. You should sleep the alcohol off."

"I'm not drunk!" Jaskier exclaims offended and earns a laugh from cat dad.

"You're wasted, I can hear it even on phone. Go to sleep, Julian."

"Um... right. I'll... I'll go to sleep, and and try not to get smothered to death by an angry cat," he stammers embarrassed. Hearing his name in that low gravel shouldn't make his heart feel like it'll burst out of his chest. "G-good night, Geralt."

"Good night, Julian."

He will die. He will surely die, of embarrassment or happiness or Roach deciding it's finally time to sleep on his face the whole night, he doesn't know. But he will surely die.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geraskier #essi daven #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #frywen writes

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ilitws · 4 years

Text

𝑰𝑭 i just lay here.

summary. sequel to all that i ever was. “pick me, choose me, love me.” bryce isn’t the type to beg. mc. dr. george mccarthy. determined / resolute / stubborn / hard-headed. pairing. bryce/m!mc. mentions of ethan/m!mc and rafael/m!mc. word count. 992. a/n. day 21 / flatline + hope for @choicesmarchchallenge.

george is a fighter. it’s what you love about him. and with every day, he gets stronger. he isn’t conscious yet, but there’s no longer sweat marring his brow for hours on end and the bruises across his face are just starting to fade. as far as patients go, he’s by far one of the best. responsive to his procedures and quiet and manageable. soon, he won’t even be surgery’s responsibility anymore, and you’ll just have to visit him during regular hours just like everybody else.

no more lingering around the foot of his bed, pretending to squint at his chart so you have an excuse to be near him. tanaka almost called you out for this yesterday, asking why george’s new meds were so interesting. no more curling up beside him after your shift ends, careful not to rip out his central line. you wonder if he heard anything you told him those nights and early mornings.

you wonder if he heard you tell him that you love him.

it’s not at all surprising you’re in some sort of nebulous three-way competition with an attending and a paramedic. none of you have made any moves to stake a claim, per se —— if anything, the other two seemed to have backed off. but you’re still not certain what it means for you and george. you hope that it means he’s yours. but more than anything, you want him to be here.

if george suddenly wakes up and has decided, from his near death experience, that he’d like to risk it all for ethan ramsey, who are you to stop him? you’re an optimist, but you’re not stupid. you know hope has its limits.

funny how your internal monologue chooses this exact moment to bite you.

while you were staring wistfully at george’s room from the nurse’s station, chin in hand, he was busy dying. the moment the steady tone of asystole reaches your ears, you can only hope to god that it isn’t too late.

you sprint across the floor faster than you’ve ever run in your life, skidding to a stop by his side. chest compressions, chest compressions, chest compressions. it’s a steady enough mantra to ground him as you push and try to keep your voice from wavering as you call for help. “c’mon, baby,” you mutter. “don’t do this to me, george.” the nurses who stumble in with the crash cart have the decency not to throw you an odd look for the pet name.

they push one of epi. nothing happens. you bark at them to do it again. still nothing. your arms are getting tired and a droplet of sweat travels down your nose to splash onto george’s gown. somebody places a hand on your shoulder, says, “lahela, stop it,” and tries to steer you away. you don’t move. you may have been talking shit about hope seven minutes ago, but it’s all you have left.

you hear a sigh. “one more of epi. if it doesn’t work, get him out of here.” it’s cute how harper emery thinks she could possible drag you out of this room, head of neuro or otherwise. anything else she says is drowned out by the litany of “please”s that fall out of your mouth. you didn’t even realize you were speaking, elbows locking up as you continue to push.

“george, you listen to me, you’re gonna come back from this. you don’t get to leave me hanging, all right?” the room starts to clear out. to you, it had always just been you and him. it still is. “i told you that i fucking love you, and i would like an answer. even a ‘hey, bryce, not really feeling it, sorry’ is enough but i need you to say it, okay?”

a hand hovers near your shoulder again. “i’m not done, damn it!” you don’t turn back to look at the bridge you’ve probably burnt. “i need you to wake up and say it because if you don’t, i’m gonna keep mooning over you because that’s what love is. i’d prefer it if you actually said, ‘hey, bryce, i love you too! you’re perfect and handsome and everything i’ve ever wanted!’ but in order for that to happen, you have to have a heartbeat.”

beep. two seconds of silence. and then a slow, and steady string of blips. maybe you should start speaking things into the universe more often, if the activation speed is this fast.

you stumble into your usual chair, still parked right next to george’s bed, arms as heavy as lead. this was an awful workout, one you would definitely not like to do ever again. the most strength you can muster is barely enough to put a hand on top of george’s. it flexes under your fingers as his brows twitch. you squeeze gently. it’s too early to ask the forces that be to wake him up, though the thought is tempting.

dr. emery sighs again. she crosses her arms as she leans against the doorway, moving slightly to let the crash cart through. “if you pull something like this again, you won’t be anywhere within 20 feet of this room ---- or this program, for that matter.”

“can’t make any promises, ma’am.”

“it was a good save,” she begrudgingly admits. she respected your persistence, once. the logical part of you hates that you allowed yourself to fall apart in front of her. but her tone isn’t as unkind as it could be. “ but it was also a once-in-a-lifetime one. you better hope he gets better and gets the hell out of there.”

you do ---- for that and more.

as you reach over to take his hand with your other, unoccupied one, his fingers curl ever so slightly around your palm.

it sure looks like you’ve already got the that part down. who’s to say an ‘i love you’ isn’t the and more?

#choicesmarchchallenge #playchoices #bryce x mc #oph #this got . way longer than i wanted to it to bUT #every now and then i write something that i don't hate.#this is not one of those days

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noona-clock · 5 years

Text

The Watch - Part 2

Genre: Time Travel!AU

Pairing: Seungyoon x You

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4 | Words: 3,772

Seungyoon had thought nothing else could take him by surprise.

But then you’d said that. You’d brought up his watch. You’d mentioned that he had tried to fix it.

It’s not like you had even asked if he’d fixed it. You had just... said it straight out.

Okay, well, technically you had asked. But you’d asked it in that way which clearly meant you already knew the answer.

“Y--yes,” he stammered, completely bewildered. “How did you --?”

“You told me,” you explained as you slowly let your hands fall from his face.

At first, Seungyoon had felt a bit awkward with you touching him like that. But now that your hands were gone... he was tempted to take hold of your wrists and put them right back.

“I told -- what do you --”

“You told me this would happen. You explained everything, you even told me when. The exact date. Of course, I completely forgot. You know how I am with dates -- okay, well, you will know how I am with dates. I have a horrible memory,” you told him with a soft chuckle.

Seungyoon searched your face, his brow furrowed as he gnawed at the inside of his cheek. “When did I tell you?”

“The day you told me you loved me for the first time,” you answered. “You said now that you knew I wasn’t going anywhere, you could tell me something really unbelievable without being scared I would run away.”

He would have to make a mental note to actually do this -- tell you this would happen. He just wondered a) if or when he would get back to the present, and b) when he would meet you.

“So, what else did I say?” he asked, his heart starting to race. Had he told you what he needed to do to go home? Well, home but two years ago.

“Yoon,” you lamented with a bit of a whine. “I just told you I have a bad memory. You said you had time traveled because you were trying to fix some watch, and you went into the future when we were living together, and you would probably be acting weird, and I should tell you that you told me. That’s all I remember.”

“Did I tell you anything about... how I got back?” he asked gently.

“Well,” you sighed. “How did you get here? What did you do?”

“I wound it,” he answered.

“So... just unwind it,” you suggested with a shrug.

...Wow. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

He immediately lifted his wrist and began taking his watch off, but you let out a soft gasp, causing him to freeze momentarily.

“Wait, I was supposed to tell you something,” you said. Your eyes flew up to the ceiling and you frowned in thought, but after a few seconds, you still hadn’t said anything.

“...What was it?” Seungyoon whispered.

“I can’t remember,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

“Well... how about you tell me your name?” After all, he still didn’t know it.

A smile quirked on your lips then, and you took a step closer to him. “Y/N,” you told him softly. “And when you meet me, tell me you like it. I’ve always been a little self-conscious, but finally, some really cute guy told me he liked my name. It made me feel a little better. And it gave you tons of Brownie points.”

Seungyoon couldn’t stop a soft chuckle from escaping his lips, and he had an almost irresistible urge to take one of your hands or kiss you or something. He didn’t even know you, but... it felt like he did.

“I’ll remember that,” he replied with a tiny smirk. “Do you... when do I meet you?”

“Oh, come on,” you laughed. “I can’t give that away, now can I?”

“I think you can.”

“No,” you whispered, leaning in and brushing your lips over his teasingly. “Okay, I gotta finish getting ready. Unwind the watch and see if it works.”

Seungyoon nodded, gulping down the tiny lump of anxiety in his throat before you pulled away and slipped back into the bathroom.

Lifting up his wrist again, he let out a soft exhale and unhooked the watch. It slid off his wrist, and he held it gently in his hands, just as he had not too long ago. And, again, he carefully took hold of the crown with two fingers, pulling it out and...

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he turned the crown toward him.

Once he had spun it around twice -- the same amount of times he had earlier -- he prepared himself for the blurry vision and the dizziness. This morning it had been pretty much immediate, and he hadn’t been at all prepared for it. Obviously. Did anyone ever know ahead of time they were going to be traveling to the future?

But now he was prepared for it.

Except... it wasn’t coming.

“Did it work?” you called out.

“Uh... apparently, not,” he answered, opening his eyes and examining the watch. It was still ticking, so... maybe that was the reason why it didn’t work? Maybe he had to wait for it stop again?

You let out a soft hum, appearing yet again in the doorway with more of your hair curled. And then suddenly your eyes widened, a smile forming on your lips. “Oh, wait! I remember now!”

“Remember what?” Seungyoon asked eagerly, taking a step toward you.

“You told me you have to wait until the watch stops working again, but it usually happens when you wake up the next morning,” you informed him, looking just a bit guilty because you’d temporarily forgotten this important piece of information.

Seungyoon’s forehead wrinkled as he looked at you, though he hoped he didn’t look that distressed. “So... I’m here for the rest of the day.”

“I think so,” you shrugged. “Do you... want to call in sick?”

“Do I still have the same job?”

“Yes. But, still. I think this is a pretty good excuse not to go into the office.”

Your innocent expression made him chuckle, and he couldn’t help but shrug defenselessly. “All right,” he relented. “As long as you play hooky with me.”

He was still getting used to the idea that someone was in love with him - and living with him - but he figured he should take advantage of it while he could. He had no idea when he would meet you back in the present, so why not get to know you now?

“Of course,” you replied as if it should have been obvious. “You don’t know this now, but someday you will: I will literally do anything for you.”

“Okay,” Seungyoon chuckled, feeling his cheeks warm.

“I mean, maybe not anything, but -- I just -- I love you. And I trust you,” you told him. “And you may not feel it right now, but you love me, too.”

His cheeks warmed even more, but he forced himself to look at you when he said, “Well, if the inside is just as beautiful as the outside, I can see why.”

You clapped your hand and let out a whoop of laughter, and Seungyoon’s eyebrows knit together in slight confusion.

“What? What’s so funny?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to reply, but apparently, you thought better of it. “No, nothing,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I need to be careful not to give too much away. Now, go change.”

“Change into what, exactly?”

“That depends,” you said with a wondering sigh. “What do you want to do? Do you want to stay home and be lazy or do you want to get out and do things? Go shopping, have lunch, see a movie?”

Seungyoon felt kind of silly for asking this, but... “What do we normally do on weekends?”

“A little bit of both,” you chuckled. “What do you feel like doing?”

To be quite honest, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about anything. He was confused and intrigued and anxious and excited all at the same time.

Apparently, his conflicted emotions were all over his face, because you answered your own question before he could. “Let’s go out,” you suggested. “Enjoy the day while you can. Oh, god, that sounds very ominous, but I swear you will go back. You told me so.”

“Okay,” he replied with a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “I guess I’ll change then.”

You beamed at him before turning and going back into the bathroom one last time to finish getting ready. Seungyoon, in turn, headed to the closet to find a more casual outfit to wear.

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised when he opened the door; you lived here, too, now, so it only made sense that your clothes were also in his closet. But he still jumped a little when he saw just how different it looked in there.

It took him a bit longer than expected to figure out where, exactly, all of his clothes were, but he eventually changed into a t-shirt and jeans. After grabbing a suede jacket, he went back out to the dresser. He didn’t realize until he’d opened the top drawer that he didn’t need to pick out a watch because he was already wearing one. And... truthfully, he was kind of scared to take it off at this point.

As he gently closed the drawer, he noticed there were pictures on top of the dresser. Three pictures, actually, and all of them were of you and Seungyoon together.

He was examining one of them, a selfie of the two of you sitting side-by-side. You were beaming and holding up a key, and Seungyoon was kissing your cheek.

“Ah,” you murmured, coming to stand next to him. “That was when I first moved in. See? I got my own copy of the key and everything.”

Seungyoon chuckled and nodded, putting the picture down and picking up the next one.

“Ooh, this one was our first vacation together,” you explained, your tone becoming more excited.

“Where did we go?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes to try and discern what was in the background.

“We went to the beach,” you answered. And then you let out a little sigh. “One word of advice, though: Sunscreen.”

Seungyoon nodded quickly and set the frame back down. “Got it.”

You picked up the final picture, stepping just a little closer to Seungyoon and resting your chin on his shoulder. “Our first selfie together,” you murmured wistfully. “I think this was our... second date? You would remember better than me. You’re my walking calendar, that’s what I call you. You remember everything. All the dates and when everything happened. You keep my life organized, that’s for sure.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and he suddenly felt... heartsick? You were describing a relationship he hadn’t experienced yet, but he really, really wanted to.

“I’m jealous of you, you know,” you sighed, setting the picture back down on the dresser.

“Jealous? Of me? Why?” Seungyoon asked. Your chin was still resting on his shoulder, so he was doing his best not to move one single inch. He didn’t want to disturb you.

“Because you have yet to live through all these! Everything is just a memory for me. I would love to go back and experience it all over again,” you lamented.

“So... they’re all good memories?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, mostly,” you nodded. “We argue, of course. And that sunburn you got was pretty bad. Maybe when you leave it’ll be erased from my memory since I told you about it. I sure hope you remember to use sunscreen when we go.”

“I will, I promise,” he laughed softly.

“Good.” You poked him gently in the side before lifting your chin away. He waited for you to walk away completely, but you didn’t. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is probably going to be weird for you, but looking at these pictures has made me all nostalgic, and I just really want to kiss you. Is that -- I mean, is that okay?”

Seungyoon would have to be insane to say ‘no’ to a beautiful girl wanting to kiss him. Even though he had just met you and learned about your relationship less than an hour ago, it was clear the two of you were pretty deeply in love.

“Yes, of course, it’s okay,” he answered, though he felt his cheeks warming. They were most likely tinged with pink, too.

He turned toward you, and you immediately slid your arms around his neck. Your smell invaded his senses as you pressed your body lightly against his.

You smelled like perfume and toothpaste, and as weird as it sounds, it took his breath away. It was like your scent was familiar, but he knew he’d never smelled it before.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your brow furrowed adorably as your nose brushed over his.

He nodded wordlessly and snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

A smile quirked at your lips, but he only saw it for a second before you stood on your toes and captured his lips in a kiss.

You had already kissed him earlier, just after you’d set his breakfast plate down and before you’d gone upstairs to get ready for work.

But that had been a different kind of kiss entirely. A quick, good-bye kiss. And he hadn’t been expecting it.

This kiss possessed neither of those qualities.

This was a kiss of... yearning.

Your lips moved slowly, gently against his, cradling and caressing them as if you thought they were the most precious treasure in the universe. With each passing second, your tender kiss stoked a new sort of emotion in him. He felt passion and terror and love and trepidation and affection and jealousy.

Yes, he was jealous of his future self for having spent all this time with you. For having kissed you thousands of times already.

But the other thing about this kiss which was different from the previous one was he had been expecting it. And he wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

All he was sure of was this: the instant you pulled away from him, he knew he never wanted to live another day of his life without kissing you.

Not even ten minutes ago, he’d been ready to go back to his life in the past.

But now... he didn’t want to leave.

Not at all.

As Seungyoon got ready for bed that night, he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good day.

The two of you had taken full advantage of your “sick days.” You’d gone shopping at a local mall, and Seungyoon had pointed out to you all of the stores which had changed since two years ago. He thought maybe you’d get sick of it, but you hadn’t.

For lunch, you had taken him to a restaurant he’d never been to, but you’d clued him in that this where your second date had occurred.

...Or maybe it had been your third. You couldn’t quite remember.

After a delicious meal, you’d gone to see a movie, and Seungyoon now had plans to impress everyone he knew by guessing the ending before it even came out.

You had then spent the rest of the day at home, relaxing on the couch and watching some mindless television -- though mostly you had just talked.

“Can’t you give me just one little hint?” Seungyoon had needled as he played with your fingers.

“No!” you’d laughed. “I really can’t. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Why not?” He had been trying to pout in a cutesy way, wanting you to feel bad for him, but it hadn’t quite worked.

“Because! I didn’t know beforehand when we were going to meet. I didn’t know you existed. You already have an advantage of knowing me when you see me.”

Well, you did have a point. The moment he arrived back in the past -- his present -- he would be on the lookout for you.

“You do a really good job of acting like you don’t know me, though,” you’d pointed out.

A smile had quirked at Seungyoon’s lips, and he stopped playing with your fingers -- but only so he could grasp them and pull you to lean against him.

As soon as you were cuddled up against his side, he had begun lazily combing his fingers through your hair. “Can you at least tell me what the beginning of our relationship was like? You said I did a good job of acting like I didn’t already know you... What else?”

He’d heard you let out a soft huff, and for a moment, he had been afraid you would refuse to answer him again. But then you’d said, “Well, it was... It was easy.”

“Easy? So, like, it didn’t take long for us to have --”

“No, not easy like that!” you’d laughed, swatting at his chest. “I mean it wasn’t difficult. There was no guessing. We met, we went on a date, and... that was kind of it. I knew from the get-go that you liked me, so I was never up at night wondering how you felt. You always told me. And you showed me. I think that’s how I knew you were different, in a good way. All the other guys I’ve dated, I spent so much time worrying and thinking about what would happen next. With you, I never had a chance to worry. Even before you told me you loved me -- way before -- I knew you did. And... I don’t know. It’s just like... we were... meant to be.”

Seungyoon’s heart had burst with every word you’d said, and even though he desperately did not want to leave you, he was also looking forward to everything you just described. He couldn’t wait to actually meet you and tell you he liked your name and ask you out and show you how he felt about you and not give you a chance to worry about where your relationship stood and tell you he loves you.

He just hoped he didn’t have to wait that long.

Obviously, he knew he wouldn’t have to wait two years. You were already deeply in love and living together, and that in and of itself had to have taken at least a year.

So when would he meet you after getting back to the present? Six months? Three months? Two weeks?

The agony of uncertainty would probably kill him.

“Are you worried about going back?” you asked softly, coming up behind him as he stood at the bathroom sink. He had already brushed his teeth, and he now realized he had just been standing there, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

You slid your arms around his middle and set your chin atop his shoulder, just as you had earlier this morning.

“Yeah,” he admitted, only glancing at you. “On the one hand, I... don’t want to leave you. Especially since I don’t know when I’ll get to meet you. But... on the other... I do want to experience all the things you’ve told me about. Dating you and going on our first vacation -- with lots of sunscreen. Telling you I love you and telling you about this. Moving in together. I do want to live through all of that.”

“See? It won’t be so bad,” you assured him as you squeezed him affectionately. “You have a lot to look forward to.”

He hummed in agreement, leaning back against you just slightly.

“And besides... there’s something else,” you added.

Seungyoon’s brow furrowed, and he turned around in your embrace to look at you fully. “Something else?”

You nodded, barely able to keep a smile from your lips. “When you told me about this, about traveling forward in time... you said you’d done it twice.”

“Twice?”

“Once before we were married, and once after --”

“Married?!” Seungyoon interrupted in astonishment.

A flush overtook your cheeks, and you nodded again. “You weren’t going to tell me details, but I kind of forced you. I already knew by then, of course, I just... wanted to make sure.”

He took a few moments to let this sink in, his eyes traveling all around the bathroom as his mind raced with thoughts.

“Twice?” he asked again. And when you nodded, he furrowed his brow down at you. “Only twice?”

“That’s all you said,” you shrugged.

Well. Now he had some stuff to think about it.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” you whispered, standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his sweetly.

Seungyoon hummed distractedly, but he still followed you out of the bathroom and over to his bed -- your bed. The bed he shared with you.

After the two of you had turned off the lights and settled under the covers, Seungyoon could feel your hesitation -- but only for a moment. You turned around and snuggled up to him, curling one arm up against his chest and fitting your head right into the crook of his neck.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” Seungyoon whispered back before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you,” you added. “And you don’t have to say it back. I know you don’t love me. But... you will.”

Seungyoon gulped down a small lump of anxiety in his throat, and he couldn’t remember a time when he’d wanted to go to sleep less.

It was just so... strange. He wanted to spend more time with you, but he also wanted to meet you. He was afraid of what would happen next, but he was also excited. He wanted to try immediately to travel forward again and see where it took him, but he also wanted to save it. But what if he waited too late? What if there was some sort of time limit? I mean, it was a watch, after all. It kept time.

“Don’t worry about it,” you whispered, cutting into his frantic thoughts. “Everything will work out just fine.”

He let out a soft exhale through his lips and nodded, sliding an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly, holding you close to him.

You were right, of course. Everything would work out just fine.

At least... he hoped you were right.

Part 3

#kwritersworldnet #seungyoon scenarios #seungyoon imagines #seungyoon au #seungyoon fluff #seungyoon fanfic #winner scenarios #winner imagines #winner au #winner fluff #winner fanfic #seungyoon #kang seungyoon #winner #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

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grayzaweek · 6 years

Text

Day 5: Friends to Lovers

A/N: You’re about to read 11k words. Just a heads-up.

Sitting in a sunlit cafe and having cake was Erza’s favourite post-mission celebration routine. As a general rule, party members got to tag along – her treat. After a particularly gruesome quest involving a codpiece, a leprechaun, polka-dot bikinis and flying crabs, Gray and Erza were doing just that. He didn’t know whether the cake was helping Erza blot out this particular quest from memory but with the help of his trusted black coffee, Gray was halfway there already.

As he started on his twelfth cup, he could feel the details of the quest fade away with every sip and gulp. It was magical.

Gods bless black coffee.

It was a windy autumn’s evening and the weather was pleasant. People were out for strolls and walks, making the most of the breeze before winter ruined everything. Prominently featured in this crowd were couples. Hand holding, giddy smiling, face eating couples. Never had Gray seen so many couples out thronging the street. They were probably out on a protest march of some kind, and he looked over to Erza to ask her thoughts on the matter, but stopped himself.

She sat with her chin on her hand, watching the couples wistfully. Gray, partly amused and partly confused at his development, cleared his throat. “Couple-watching sure is a popular pastime nowadays, innit?”

Erza sighed. “Would you look at them?” she commented as another couple walked by their table, arms around each other. Erza sighed again and looked down at her cake. “I’ll never find a boyfriend. Die an old maid.”

Then she took an aggressive bite out of her cake and chewed mournfully.

“You won’t die an old maid,” Gray reassured her. Then he paused. “Maybe an old spinster-cook.”

She looked at him and smiled tightly. “Wow, thanks.”

“Besides,” he said and leaned in, placing his elbows on the table. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Gray meant it as a joke, of course, but when Erza burst out laughing, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit miffed.

“Yeah, right,” Erza replied as she took a sip of her tea.

Gray cleared his throat, though he was still smiling. “Why is that so funny?”

“You made a joke, right? So I laughed.”

“Yeah, a little too hard.” He repositioned himself on his chair and placed his forearms on the table. “What, am I not boyfriend material?”

“No,” replied Erza, still smiling and shaking her head. “You’re Gray.”

“So what, exactly?”

“You know.” She reached out and playfully punched his bicep. “Gray.”

“Okay, so we’ve established my name and hit me,” he replied with a chuckle but sobered up. “But theoretically, you know? What if we weren’t friends? What if it was a blind date and I showed up at your door?”

“Then I would tell you that I don’t date strangers.”

Gray had nothing to say to that. But the conversation was far from over.

1234567890

Gray found himself back to back with Erza as the goblins surrounded them. They’d stolen a shoe of a local noble’s daughter and they wanted it back. Apparently shoes were very important to these people.

“So I was wondering,” Gray said as he fashioned himself a spear made of ice.

“What?” Erza asked as the goblins slowly advanced.

“Why couldn’t I be your boyfriend?”

“Gods, Gray, are you still on this? It’s been a week!”

“You bet your butt I am! What, am I not good enough for you?”

“No, I’m just not that desperate.”

“…you know, even by ice mage standards, that was cold.”

1234567890

“So,” Gray began as he twirled a bottle of ale in his hand and poured Erza a drink. “Still don’t think I’m boyfriend material?”

“Huh?”

“Saw you checkin’ me out at the King’s game last night.”

“Gray, you were naked.”

“Lucky for you.”

She looked at him, amused and incredulous at the same time. “What?”

Gray flipped his palms and sat down beside her, sighing heavily. “I have literally no idea what I just said.”

“You poor baby. Do you need a hug?”

“Stop it.”

1234567890

Erza was slicing a tomato when Gray sat himself down on the counter and asked, “So I know I’ve asked you this before-”

“A hundred times before!” Erza slashed into the tomato with her knife, enunciating every word frustratedly before looking at him.

Gray calmly took the knife from her hand and put it away. “How am I not right for you?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, laughing in frustration. “I like guys like…” she sighed. “I guess I just gravitate to men who are more mature.”

“Oh, so I’m not mature enough for you?” he asked, imitating her childishly. “Erza needs someone more machoor!” Then he stopped and sat silent for a moment. “You know, I think you make a good point.”

“Thank you. Now can I have my knife back?”

1234567890

“All right,” Gray said as the train came to a halt at their destination. “Let’s say there’s a world ending apocalyptic event and I’m the only other human left beside you. Would you go out with me?”

“Ehh,” Erza replied as she got off the train.

“Oh, come on!” Gray followed suit. “I’d have canned goods!”

1234567890

Stakeouts were usually boring for the most part. Watching the same thing got tiresome after a few hours, so Gray had broken out the playing cards but even that did nothing to stimulate him.

“Gin,” said Erza triumphantly and placed her cards on the floor between them.

Gray looked at her. “We were playing gin?”

Erza merely chuckled and started gathering up her cards.

“You know, if we were a couple, we could play this game naked,” Gray said with a smile as he slid his cards over to her.

Erza shook her head. “Will you stop?”

Gray raised his hands. “Sure. All right.”

“Okay look,” she said, looking at him earnestly. “I think you’re great. I think you’re sweet and you’re smart.” She paused to smile at him. “And I love you.”

Gray did not know where this was suddenly coming from. “Uhh.”

“But you’ll always be the boy who threw his undies at my face and ran away after losing a fight.”

“Hey, we don’t talk about that!”

1234567890

“So.”

Gray looked up from his drink. “So…?”

Erza smiled at him. “It’s been two days since you last asked me if you could be my boyfriend. Are you cured now?”

Snorting, Gray finished up his glass and smiled back. “You know, it was nice while it lasted but we all have to move on some day.”

She punched his bicep as she sat down beside him. “What was all that about, anyway? I know you were just teasing, but you were really persistent.”

He laughed at that. “Yeah, just… I don’t know what to say.”

“Hmm?”

“What you said last time. That you loved me. I guess that’s all I really needed to hear, y’know?”

“How do you mean? Surely, you already knew that.”

“Big difference between knowing and hearing,” he replied with a shrug and lifted his glass to his lips, only to find that it was empty. “Erza, I’ve known you a long time. Longer than Mira or Natsu, and better than Cana or Laxus. I’m glad we met, and I’m glad we became friends. But for a long portion of that time, I’ve had feelings for you. Kept ‘em away and under. Didn’t wanna bring ‘em to light. As a consequence, I never really dealt with them properly as I should have.” He hummed and closed his eyes. “Now, I probably might regret saying all this in the morning, but up until very recently, those feelings were always there. On a leash, but ever present. After you said what you did, I thought to myself, ‘This ain’t so bad. I can live with that.’ You know what I mean?”

Gray sighed deeply, opened his eyes and grinned sheepishly at Erza, who looked stunned. “I guess what I wanna say is that thanks to you, I’m ready to put that behind me now.”

“I… wow. I really don’t know what to say, Gray.”

“You’ve already said everything I needed to hear,” he replied as he got up from his stool. It was time to go home. “G’night Erza. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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“How you holdin’ up?”

Erza looked back and smiled when she saw him. Then she patted the grass beside her, inviting him to sit. When he had, she said, “I am all healed up, Gray.”

“Well, that’s good to know but I wasn’t talking about that.”

“I know.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I just don’t know what to think, honestly. My parents were never part of the picture, so I was never very curious about them growing up. Now, after all that, I just… I don’t know what to make of the fact that I came from her… that she suffered as she did because of me.”

“Don’t forget that she was ready and willing to kill you, Erza.”

“I know,” she repeated weakly and leant her head on his shoulder, surprising him. “I have no idea what to make of this.”

“We don’t choose our parents, Erza,” he said after a while. “I like to think that people aren’t born evil, that time twists them into what they eventually become, but after everything I’ve see, I dunno whether that’s wishful thinking.” He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. “You mother suffered for you at one time, and that means that she did love you, regardless of what happened. It doesn’t excuse what she did, but that’s neither here nor there. Point is, we’re not our parents. They were never around enough, for whatever reason, for us to be inspired to be like them. You’re you because of the choices you made. Nobody can take credit for that. You fed the right dog. She didn’t.”

She looked up at his face. “The right dog?”

“Ahh.” Gray kept his gaze focused before him. “When I was in Avatar, there was this guy, a grunt basically, called Reynard. He’d grown up in an orphanage, and various foster homes. He was… troubled. So we were talking one day, and he told me that there was a philosophy among the boys growing up in his orphanage, that every person had two dogs inside them: the right dog and the wrong dog. Whichever one you fed more dictated your actions.” Gray sighed. “He fed the wrong dog.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. Whatever your mother did and whoever she became was her choice and hers alone. You had no impact on her, and she had none on you. So don’t beat yourself up, okay? As far as I’m concerned, she was just another stranger whom you had things in common with.”

“It makes sense when you put it like that. I am just unused to meeting parents I’d assumed dead.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Erza sat up straight. “Gray, I didn’t mean-”

“I know. Don’t sweat it.”

She sighed. “You are much too nice to me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason to throw my undies in your face and run away again.”

“I thought we didn’t talk about that.”

“Things change.”

“Yes,” Erza said quietly after a moment. “They sure do.”

Gray then felt an unexpected peck on his cheek, and turned to find her smiling at him.

“I hope you did not mind, Gray.”

“I, uh, I wouldn’t…” he scratched the back of his head, scrambling for words. “Not exactly the word I’d use, no.”

“Then I am glad.” Erza got up and started walking up the grassy slope back to camp. “Goodnight, Gray.”

“Yeah. You too.”

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Gray emptied his champagne glass in a fern. He signalled to one of the guys carrying drinks of trays and gave him the empty glass. He then went out onto the balcony, which was empty. Everyone was inside, either mingling or eating. Gray just needed some fresh air.

Lucy’s book release party was a big deal, he knew, but he and crowds of posh pricks never really got along. The only reason he’d lingered after giving her his present was because she wouldn’t want him to just duck out on an important event. But he really couldn’t take it anymore. He had nothing against crowds – he wouldn’t be in Fairy Tail if he did – but he preferred to sit down with a drink and not be bothered. That was hard to do with girls constantly making passes at him and asking him to strip.

He would stick around for a few more minutes. Then he’d jump the fence. Women in cocktail dresses asking him up to their rooms every three minutes got really tiring after a while.

The things I do for my friends, he thought as he leant his elbows against the balustrade and shook his head. No power of friendship bullshit works in these situations.

“I can’t believe you escaped before me.” Gray glanced back over his shoulder to find Erza coming up to him, smiling. “A fat editor insisted on talking to me about gerunds for fifteen minutes.”

Gray snorted. “Your most ruthless adversary, I’m sure.”

She hummed as she came and stood beside him, a wine glass held delicately between her fingers. “Are you thinking of running?”

“In a few minutes, yeah.”

“Women?”

“Yeah.”

“Shall I defend your honour?”

“I would like nothing better,” he replied, laughing. “But this is Lucy’s night. We shouldn’t steal the spotlight.”

“Mmm. Agreed.”

Gray smiled at her. She looked stunning in that red dress. “Still waiting?”

Erza said nothing. It had been a long time since Jellal and his mates had been pardoned by the princess. Erza had been hoping that he’d drop by and that finally they’d have something but, so far, nothing. Gray nodded to himself and looked up at the sky.

“You have to be stationary to wait, you know. You move, and you might leave them behind. In other words, you’re stagnant. You’re not moving, you’re not evolving, you’re not growing. All you’re doing is gathering moss.” He paused a moment. “I won’t tell you to not do it. I’m just asking you to consider how long you’re willing to sacrifice your own growth and development for something that may or may not happen, because standing around idly while life leaves you behind is the wrong way to live.”

“I know, Gray,” Erza said with a sigh. “I think about it a lot. I’ve waited a long time, and sometimes I wonder whether if I want it badly enough to sacrifice everything else, or whether I’m just in love with the idea. It’s all I’ve wanted for a long time.” She sipped from her glass. “I never had a normal life. I never had stuffed animals, and neither did I dream of being a princess. I never had that luxury. But now, when I see housewives and mothers, I wonder whether that’s so bad. Is it bad to want a simple life? I like cooking. I enjoy doing the chores around the house, making sure everything is tip-top.” She rolled her glass, smiling wistfully down at the spinning wine. “A house in the country doesn’t sound so bad. A pool for the summer, and a lawn in front with old trees…”

“And a small path in front of the house where the many mini-Erzas can learn how to ride their bicycles without fear of being run over.”

“Exactly,” she smiled at him. “Have you ever thought about having a family, Gray?”

He shook his head. “I’m not cut out for that sorta thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I have… issues, let’s say.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Gray sighed out of his nose. It’s only Erza. “I’ve just seen too much fucked up shit happen to people who don’t deserve it. You know what I mean? As long as I’m by myself, I don’t have to worry about any of that. I can take my risks without all that much thought. But a family? Suddenly you have everything to lose, and not all of it is in your control. You wanna do your best but you’re always wondering whether you fucked them up some way, you know? And kids, fuck. The responsibility for moulding another person’s life and personality and thoughts? Actually inspiring them?” He shook his head. “I dunno, Erza. I just don’t have enough balls for that. It frightens the fuck outta me, thinking I’ll ruin the lives of others.”

“I don’t know, I think you have the correct amount. Anatomically speaking.”

That surprised him into a laugh. Erza smiled and drank from her glass.

“You can trust us with your lives, but not your potential family?”

“No, I just wouldn’t trust them with me. There’s a difference.”

“Gray, that’s ridiculous. There is nobody I would rather have watching my back than you.” She placed her hand on his and squeezed it gently. “Give yourself more credit.”

“Yeah, well, you’re different. You don’t need anyone watching your back.”

“That’s not what this is about. Even if I were powerless, I would still trust my life to you.” She smiled at him. “I trust you, Gray. More than perhaps you trust yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. All this focusing on his insecurities made him uneasy. “But I’d best get going now.”

“Oh.” She removed her hand, sounding a bit disappointed. “All right, then. Will you say goodbye to Lucy?”

“And wade into that stampede again? You wish.”

Erza smiled and finished her wine. “Then I wish you a good night, Gray.”

“Yeah.” He made to walk away, but Erza stayed rooted to the spot. “Not gonna return to the fold?”

“Oh. No, I just want to stay here a while.”

“Gerunds really scare you, huh?”

“Heh. Something like that.”

There was more going on under the surface, but Gray wasn’t one to pry. He just wished there was something he could do to make her feel better.

And he chanced upon the perfect thing, too.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hmm?”

Gray bent and the waist and held out his hand, smiling. “May I have this dance, Lady Erza?”

She stared at him, though the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, unless you’d rather deal with gerunds and infinitives and past participles.”

Laughing, she placed her hand in his and said, “You make a solid argument, Sir Gray.”

“I know,” he said and led her o the middle of the balcony before pulling her close and placing his other arm on her waist. “I am pretty great.”

“Yes.” Erza placed her hand on his shoulder and her cheek on his chest. “That you are, O Great Gray.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say anything. He just swayed with her to some imaginary tune, holding her close, her scent overpowering. Somehow, it didn’t feel wrong.

“Hey,” he whispered into her hair.

“What?” she responded, equally quiet.

“You’ll be all right.”

“I know. We’ll both be all right.”

I wish.

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When Gray heard the knock, he was changing into his pajamas. Though it irritated him, he went and opened it. A knocking door, like a ringing phone, only added to annoyance if left unattended. On this occasion, he found himself flabbergasted for Erza stood at his door, still wearing her dress.

“Cute PJs,” she commented, grinning widely. “Really living it up, huh?”

He chuckled. “I wasn’t exactly expecting company after,” he glanced at the clock, “nine-fifteen.”

Erza laughed as he moved aside and let her in. “Getting ready for bed, huh?”

“That’s… what normal people do,” he answered as he closed the door. “Listen, you’re still not upset over what the people said, are you?”

A gossip writer from Sorcerer Magazine had snapped a picture of them dancing together and had attempted to interview them about their newfound love. While it hadn’t ended well for him, it had drawn comments from other people about a variety of topics, most notably about Erza having moved on from Jellal after a few drinks. Erza had taken that to heart and had raided the wine cellar in retribution. He’d had to stop her and walk her to Fairy Hills before she went nuts.

And now she was back. At his words, she ducked her head.

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Look,” he said carefully. “It’s been an emotional time. You’ve had a lot to drink. You just hafta let that go, okay?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

Gray shrugged. “It’s a cheap magazine, Erza. They thrive on this stuff. Forge their professional reputations from rumours. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. And besides,” he said with a smile, “if they do start rumours about us, at least I’ll be paired with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She looked at him. “You really think that?”

Gray chuckled. “You kiddin’? You’re the most beautiful woman in most rooms-”

He had no idea what happened next but suddenly Erza had her arms around his neck and was giving him the hottest, hardest kiss he’d ever received in his life. Surprised as he was, his body responded before his mind caught up and he kissed her back on instinct.

But then his mind did catch up, and he pushed her away.

“Whoa, whoa , whoa, what’s going on?” he said, alarmed. He pointed at her and then at himself. “We just made out! We’re making out?”

“Not anymore,” Erza replied quickly, still catching her breath.

“But we don’t do that!”

“I know, I just thought it would be fun!”

Something occurred to Gray and he squinted, taking half a step forward. “How drunk are you?”

Erza’s answer was prompt and rapid. “Drunk enough that I know I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage.”

Gray spent two seconds adding the two sentences up. Ah, fuck it. “Well, that’s the perfect amount.”

He took her hands in his and ran to the bed. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and sat beside her before kissing her again. Erza wasn’t shy about holding back. She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned against his mouth, sending tingles in places Gray knew not what to do with.

“Do you know what’s weird?” she asked with a grin when they separated for breath.

“What?”

“This doesn’t feel weird!” Erza laughed light-headedly.

“No.”

“You’re a really good kisser.”

“Well, I have kissed more than four women.” Her giddiness was contagious and Gray found himself grinning along. “Wanna get under the covers?”

“Okay!”

It felt less like sensual exploration and more like playing a game to Gray as they both tried to get under the sheets before the other. Gray went the extra distance and shed his pajamas while he was at it. In record time, and that too while under covers. When he was done, he found Erza looking at him, highly impressed.

“Wow, you are really fast.”

Gray snorted. “The wonders of practice, what can I say?”

“Well, shall we?”

“Let’s.”

Gray reached out and turned off the lights.

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“Well, I’ve never done that with you before.”

“Nope.”

Everything was awkward. Everything. It was as if the glitter of awkwardness had rained from the sky and drowned them in it. Gray wanted to die. But he also wanted to make sure she was okay.

“So how are ya? Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. You?”

“Oh yes. You?” He stopped and looked at her. “We did you.”

It was morning, and they both lay beside each other, trying to make sense of everything and adjusting to all that had happened the previous night.

“Well, I, uh, I better get going,” Erza said.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Erza made to get out of the covers, but stopped and looked at him. “Could you not look?”

Gray looked away. “I don’t wanna look.”

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Later that day, Gray sat down next to Erza at the guild’s bar with his drink and cleared his throat. She didn’t look at him.

“What we did last night was…”

“…was stupid.”

“Yeah, I mean, totally crazy stupid.”

“What were we thinking?”

They both drank simultaneously. Silence fell between them, but Gray felt he had to break it.

“You’re coming over tonight though, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

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Later that same day, after learning of the impending hundred year quest, Gray went to talk to Erza again.

“Listen,” he said as he sat down trepidatiously. “I know we had plans to meet later tonight, but I’m worried about what it might do to our friendship, you know?”

Erza nodded grimly. “I know what you mean. Especially with this quest… how could we have let it happen?”

“Seven times.”

“Mhm.” Erza sighed. “Maybe it was just because we were drunk.”

“Yeah. And it was a very emotional time.”

“Hundred year quests are pretty scary, too.”

“Fearful counts as emotional.”

“Who knows what might happen, you know?”

“And we’re still hungover and getting drunk.”

“And while we’re still drunk and emotional,” Erza looked at him. “We can still keep doing it, right?”

Gray shrugged helplessly. “I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“But when we’re not drunk and emotional-”

“-we don’t do it.” Gray nodded. “You know, the wine-cellar’s empty at this time of day.”

Erza considered this. “I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes.”

Gray got up and ran.

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While on the train to their quest, Gray liked the fact that they got complimentary gin. Little bottles, but it was still something. Travelling first class sure had its uses.

“You know, I’m really upset that Wendy gets sick on a train,” he said as he finished his little bottle of gin in one gulp, drawing the attentions of both Erza and Lucy, though he knew from Erza’s eyes that she knew what he was getting at.

“I get rather upset myself,” Erza stated, finishing her bottle of gin and getting up. “And must therefore go to the bathroom.”

“Natsu’s in the bathroom,” Lucy told them. “And Wendy’s in the other one. You’ll have to cross into the next compartment. I’d be careful, though. Some sorta royal newlyweds are travelling with us and they booked up the entire compartment. You wouldn’t wanna intrude.”

“Aye,” Happy added. “Last I heard, the woman had lost one of her pet guinea pigs and the staff was looking all over the compartment for it.”

“I’m gonna go help them search,” Gray said readily, rising to his feet. “For at least thirty minutes.”

Erza said, “Or forty-five.”

“Well,” Gray smirked. “In forty-five minutes, we could find the guinea pig twice.”

“Mhmm. You want to do some searching with me, Gray?”

“Sure, I’ll… do it with you.”

Once inside the royal bathroom, though, Erza said, “Should we really be doing this here? The newlyweds would-”

“Oh, Erz-Er-Erza,” spluttered Gray in his hurry to interrupt her. “This is the honeymoon bathroom. The bathroom expects sex. It would be disappointed if it didn’t get sex.” He spread his arms pathetically. “All the other honeymoon bathrooms would think it was a loser.”

Laughing, Erza said, “Okay.”

Gray grinned and stepped closer to her. “Wow, your laughter-”

“Not enough time,” she said and started pulling off his shirt.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

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As soon as they’d checked in to their rooms, Natsu had grabbed Lucy by the wrist and ran out to explore, Wendy in tow, leaving Gray and Erza to deal with the luggage.

“Well, we’re certainly alone,” said Erza nervously as Gray helped her drag in all the suitcases to the girls’ room.

“Yeah,” Gray replied as he looked around to check that all the bags were in the rooms they were supposed to be in. Then he smiled at her. “Good thing we have that no-drunk rule.”

“Right.” Erza chuckled and came up to him. “Listen, while we are on that subject…”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to tell you that, uh, well, I was having a hard time that night.” She rubbed her left bicep with her right hand. “And just-”

“Right,” Gray cut her off. He didn’t want her to have to say it all again. She smiled at him.

“I just… that night meant a lot to me, and I just want to thank you, I guess.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Gray stuck his hands inside his pockets. “That night meant a lot to me, too. Not because I was having a hard time or anything, but because… you’re really hot.”

Erza stared at him wordlessly before she broke out giggling.

Gray chuckled. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she replied, still laughing. “That’s okay.”

He leaned forward mischievously. “And I’m cute too.”

“And you’re cute too.”

“Heh. Thanks. All right, I gotta go unpack,” he said and held out a hand. Erza smiled and slapped her palm into his. Gray pointed at her before turning away. “Bye.”

He closed the door on his way out and leaned back against it, sighing deeply. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Getting out while the going was good? Before anyone got hurt?

Gray shook his head. Ah, fuck me.

He turned and opened the door, only to find Erza on the other side, a few paces away from the door herself, looking up at him in surprise. It seemed like she’d been on the way to opening the door as well.

Gray gulped as he entered, shutting the door with his foot. “I’m still a little buzzed from the gin. Does that count?”

Erza nodded vigorously. “Oh, that counts.”

“Oh, good,” he managed to mutter as he kissed her.

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The clock said it was three in the morning when the knock came. Gray had been pacing by the door for about three minutes, so he opened it before the knocking could even fully end.

Before Erza could say a word, he crashed his lips into hers, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in. He fumbled to close the door and pushed her up against it as she moaned into his mouth.

“What took you so long?” he asked her breathlessly after his spirited greeting.

“They wouldn’t fall asleep,” she replied. “But I’ll knock them out tomorrow.”

Natsu had sleepwalked himself into the girls’ room a half hour ago. Something about her scent being nice. He and Happy liked using her as a pillow. Usually Gray would feel sorry about Lucy but he was too busy feeling other things for Erza to care.

“Bed?”

“Please.”

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“Gray…?”

“Mmm. I’m awake. ‘Sup?”

“I have been… thinking.”

“About?”

“This… us.”

“Okay. And?”

“And… it’s been two weeks…”

“Yeah…?”

“So… where is this… going? Are we… just having fun? Or…?”

“Hmm. Where do you want us to go?”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

“I asked the question. You answer me. It’s only gentlemanly.”

“All right.” Pause. “I know that I don’t want to stop, that I want to spend more time with you. Outside of sex, you know? That I care about you very, very much.”

“Mmm. Then we want similar things.”

“Yeah. I guess we do.”

“So, do we tell the others?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I be your boyfriend now?”

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“Hey,” Gray said as he sat down beside Erza in front of the fire. “The others all asleep?”

“Mhmm. Natsu is asleep in Lucy’s bedroll. The Exceeds are in Wendy’s tent. Not a peep out of any of them for a while.”

“That’s good news all around. Anything going on?”

“No. All quiet.” Erza looked at him. “You sure you got enough sleep?”

Gray shrugged as he poked the fire with a stick. “I’m good. You?”

“I was supposed to wake you in an hour.”

Keeping watch at night was basically their shared responsibility. The rest were pretty useless in that department. Out in the open, anything could swoop down and make everything miserable.

“This is nice, though,” he said with a smile. “Nice and quiet. And I get to spend time with you.”

“And none of the others are around, so we don’t have to hide.” She smiled back. “We can be a real couple. For all of two hours.”

“Long enough for me to do this,” he said smugly and took her hand in his. “Because that’s what boyfriends do.”

Erza laughed quietly and shifted closer.

“And I can do this.” She pecked him lightly on the cheek and lingered, rubbing her nose along his cheekbone. Gray turned and kissed her forehead, before gently cupping her face kissing her slowly.

It was hard, being around each other all day but being unable to do anything unless the cover of darkness came to their aid. Even then, they didn’t have the time to do all they wanted to do. It was insanely frustrating.

Erza sighed softly when he pulled away. “Can we lie down for just a bit?”

“Sure.”

The night sky was in spectacular form. The moon had gone to sleep, leaving her children to illuminate the vast canvas of darkness. And the stars did not disappoint.

“You know, back when I was training with Ur, I had trouble sleeping,” Gray said after they settled down. “All that was on my mind was Deloira, and how I was gonna avenge the destruction of my village. I spent my nights plotting, thinking how I would do what I had to do. Even despite the gruelling training, I couldn’t get myself to sleep.”

Erza said nothing, though she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. Gray sighed.

“And I was going nuts, y’know? Obsessing over revenge… I was seven. Maybe eight years old.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Anyway, we all used to sleep in this one room, right? Ur had a fire going and we’d all sleep on the hearth. I’d always sleep next to the window, and one night, I was really tired of everything – the training, the plotting, everything. All I wanted was to sleep for a day, but I couldn’t. So I look out the window, and all I see are stars. I started counting them. Just randomly. I was asleep before I knew it.” He was silent a while. “I never saw stars like that in the city. They never twinkled as they do when you’re outdoors.”

“I never saw the stars until after I escaped from the Tower,” Erza said after a while. “The rooms we were made to sleep in had boarded up windows. We could only make out lightning through the gaps between the boards, and sometimes rainwater would slip in. That was the most contact we had with the outside world.” She snuggled into his side and Gray put his arm around her neck. “When I was out, and I saw everything for the first time, I didn’t understand anything, and I knew nobody that I could ask. So after joining the guild, I spent most of my time reading, trying to understand the world and the people in it, how things worked and all that.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“And you assumed I thought I was too good to be mixing with you guys.”

Gray grimaced. “Yeah, about that-”

“It’s okay. You were young and stupid.”

“It’s funny, though,” he said after her giggling had subsided. “I was having a bad day. Lost my wallet and fell in a ditch. And Cana gives me a reading for my future, right? And she tells me that I would have ‘brilliant luck’ that day. And I scoffed at her.” He smiled to himself. “And just a few moments later, you walked in.”

“I didn’t know this,” Erza said softly, though he felt the smile in her voice. “Fancy that.”

“Yeah. Fancy that.” He kissed her forehead. “It took ten years, but I guess it finally came true.”

“Mhmm. I am tired of sneaking around though. Shall we tell the others once we get back?”

“…well.”

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“So, Gray,” Mirajane began with a grin as he sat down at the bar. “Did you hear about Erza’s new secret boyfriend?”

“Uhh.” Gray glanced at Erza, who sat in the stool beside him, nervously sipping her ale without looking at him. He looked back at Mirajane. “I, uh, may have heard a thing or two about him.”

The barmaid’s grin broadened as she turned to Erza. “So when do we meet this mystery boyfriend man?”

“Oh he’s very shy,” Erza said. “He may not be up to meeting everybody yet.”

Gray nodded. “Yeah he’s definitely not up to meeting everybody yet.”

“I don’t care,” responded Mirajane as she served Gray his drink. “I wanna meet this guy who makes Erza the happiest she’s ever been.”

“Really?!” Gray exclaimed gleefully, downing his drink in one go and crossing a leg over another. “That’s what you heard?” He rounded upon Erza, grinning broadly. “You said that?”

Erza smiled back forcefully, and though Gray could see her brows twitching, he didn’t really care.

“I might have said that,” she replied carefully.

Gray started laughing. He placed a hand around his abdomen and covered his eyes with the other as his body shook violently with every guffaw, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Why is that funny?” Erza asked, unimpressed, and slapped his shoulder.

“Because I’m very happy for him,” Gray replied, still recovering. He slapped Erza’s knee lightly. “And you, ya lucky dog!”

Neither of them noticed the twinkle in Mirajane’s eye.

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Now that the quest was done and they were back in Fiore, Gray had more time to spend with Erza even outside of quests and meeting at the guildhall. Sometimes they took quests together, and sometimes they just met up wherever the other was.

It was closing in on six months since they’d first hooked up, and Gray was happier than he’d been in a long time.

“Hello, children,” he greeted Lucy, Erza and Mira with a grin as he joined them at the bar. “Got a quest in Crocus for the weekend. I’m taking the night train, so fill me up with ale before I leave, Mira.”

“That’s so funny,” Mirajane replied as she poured him his drink. “Erza was just telling us about this quest she’d taken in Crocus for the weekend.”

“Oh, really?”

“That is funny,” Erza said, smiling sweetly at him. “It seems like Gray’s quest could’ve been in Cedar or Clover Town.”

Gray smiled back. Don’t blow this now. “I’m not in charge of where the quest giver resides. Do you want people to think it’s a fake quest? It’s a real quest.”

“Of course,” Erza replied as she stood up. “But I take the evening train and I promised Lucy that I would help her with her landlord, so I shall see you after your quest, Gray.”

When both she and Lucy had gone, Gray cleared his throat. “Small world, huh?”

Mirajane placed her elbows on the counter and leaned in.

“Mhmm. Very small, indeed.” She smiled warmly, her eyes lingering on his chest. “That jacket looks great on you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she replied, running her hand down his sleeve. “The fabric’s so soft-oh. Hello, Mr. Bicep! Have you been working out more?”

“Y’know,” Gray laughed. “I try to squeeze things.”

Mirajane broke into a giddy laugh. Gray didn’t know what was so funny about what he’d said. Was she drunk?

“Mira?” he asked concernedly. “Are you okay?”

“Well, if you really wanna know,” she began but stopped herself, holding up her hands. “I can’t tell you.”

“Mira, it’s me.” He smiled at her. “You can tell me anything.”

“Well, actually, you’re the one person I can’t tell this to… and the one person I want to the most.”

Gray squinted at her. “What’s going on?”

“I think it’s just that, you know, I haven’t been with a guy in so long and you know when sometimes you’re looking for something and just don’t even see that it’s right there in front of you sitting on a stool sipping ale.”

Gray had been bringing his glass to his lips but stopped and put it down. Mirajane smiled at him shyly.

“Oh no, have I said too much?” she asked coyly, covering her mouth. “Oh well, something to think about.” She straightened. “I know I will.”

Then she turned around, Gray still staring at her, smiled winsomely over her shoulder, tossed her hair, and walked away.

“What the shitcakes?” he asked himself as he sat there, horror-struck.

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“I think Mira has a thing for me,” Gray announced after they’d finished with their questing for the night.

“What?”

“You know. A thing. Like a crush or something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, after you left the guildhall the other day, she was hitting on me.”

Erza propped herself up on an elbow, smiling incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“I’m telling you, I felt the vibes, okay?”

“That’s… not possible.”

“I know, right?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… Mira has always thought you were charming in a brother-y sort of way.”

“Oh, I can’t hear that enough.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I think you misunderstood.”

“I didn’t misunderstand okay?” Gray said and sat up, frustrated that she wouldn’t believe him. “She was all over me. She even touched my bicep, for fuck’s sake!”

Erza raised an eyebrow and pinched his bicep. “This bicep?”

“Well it’s not flexed right now.” Gray sighed. “Why is it so hard for you to accept that Mira could be attracted to me?”

“It’s not. You are very handsome. It’s just…” Erza stopped, her eyes widened and she sat up as well. “By the gods, she knows about us!”

Gray stared at her in alarm. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! She knows and is messing with us! That’s the only explanation!”

Gray licked his lips. “But what about my rugged good looks and bulging biceps?” He slapped his bicep. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Erza nodded grimly. “What do we do?”

“Hold on.” Gray dug out his phone from his bag and called up Mirajane. It wasn’t all that late, so he was confident he’d get her. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Mira, this is Gray,” he said, putting his finger to his lips to signal Erza to remain silent. She nodded and he put the call on speaker. “Listen, I’m here alone in my hotel room, and I couldn’t help but think about what you said to me.”

A pause on the other end. Then a strangled, “Ehhh?”

“Yeah, that thing you said before? Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.”

“Really?” Mirajane replied. She sounded panicked.

“Yeah, so how about you come over after your shift the day I get back and I’ll let you feel my bicep.” He paused for effect. “And more.”

A long pause. “I’ll have to get back to you on that okay bye.”

As she clicked off, Gray tossed the phone back into the bag victoriously and lay down. “Two can play that game.”

“She thinks she’s so slick, messing with us.” Erza said in-between giggles as she snuggled up to him.

“Well, the messer just became the messee!”

“True. So what now?”

Gray thought about it. “More questing?”

“I don’t see why not.”

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“So, Gray, I would love to come over tonight.”

Gray almost spilled his drink at Mirajane’s words. He threw a sideways glance at Erza, who was seated beside him, and asked, “R-really?”

“Yes,” Mirajane replied, her voice sultry and eyes bright. “Shall we say around… six?”

“Six sounds… good.”

“Good. I’m really looking forward to you and me having sexual intercourse.” She bit her lip and winked at him before floating over to the other patrons.

Gray stared helplessly at Erza, who patted the air, signalling that it’d be all right. Gray, who had never taken much on faith, took refuge in his drink.

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“It’ll be fine,” Erza told him as she folded his collars properly. “You just make her think that you want to sleep with her and it will flip her out.”

“Yeah, but how far am I supposed to go?” Gray asked uncertainly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Erza replied as she sprayed breath freshener into his mouth. “She’ll crack way before you do!”

After he was done choking on the spray, Gray croaked, “How do you know?”

“Because you’re on my team! And my team always wins!”

“At this?!”

Erza rolled her eyes. Whatever she was about to say was cut short by the knock on his front door. Gray felt his stomach clench up.

“Go get some!” Erza pecked him on the lips and clapped his back lightly to encourage him. “Go!”

He waited till she was safely hidden in the bathroom before he went to get the door, getting his sexy smouldering look on as he went.

I wanna die.

Mirajane stood on his doorstep in a sizzling black dress, the top button of which was open. She had her hair down, and smelled great. Overall, she looked stunning. Gray did his best to not crack up in laughter. Instead, he pocketed his hands and leaned against the door.

“Mira,” he said, deepening his voice.

“Gray,” she replied, her voice a tad breathless.

“C’mon in,” he told her, jerking his head towards the inside of the house and winking at her.

She smirked at him. “I was going to.”

Gray closed the door as she walked in, telling himself that it’d be all okay in the end.

“I brought some wine. Would you like some?”

“Sure. I’ll get some glasses.”

He gave her the glasses and, barkeep as she was, she uncorked the bottle and filled the glasses.

“So, here we are,” she said as he handed him his glass. “Nervous?”

“No. You?”

“No. I want this to happen.”

“Well, so do I.”

They clinked glasses, smiling at each other, and started to drink. Neither stopped until their glass was drained.

“That went right to my head,” Mirajane said with a quiet laugh. “Makes me wanna rip that shirt right off you.”

“Well, then,” Gray rallied, “why don’t we move this to the bedroom?”

Her smile faltered for just a second. “Really?”

Gray now smelled blood. “Oh, do you not want to?”

“No,” Mirajane replied quickly. “First I wanna… take off all my clothes and have you rub lotion on me.”

“That sounds… nice.” Gray imagined it for just a second and shuddered internally. “I’ll go get the lotion.”

Then, making sure his stride didn’t exude panic, he went into the bathroom to consult Erza, who was waiting with lotion in hand.

“This is totally getting outta hand, okay?” he hissed as he took the bottle.

“She’s bluffing!”

“I tell you, she’s not backing down!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Erza replied maniacally. “You got out there and seduce her till she cracks!”

“All right, fine!” Gray sighed and looked around, finally noticing something. “Did you clean up in here?”

“Of course,” she replied like it was the most obvious thing, and pushed him out.

Gray scanned the room for Mirajane and found her facing away from him, halfway to the door.

“Oh, you’re leaving?”

She turned around, and he saw with horror that most of the buttons on her dress were now undone.

“Not without you, luv-er,” she said, though Gray could tell from her tone that it was unnatural. She kept looking at him and down at her chest as she walked up to him. “So, this is my bra.”

Gray had no idea what to say. “It’s very, very nice.” He held up the bottle of lotion. “Well, c’mere.” Oh my fuck what the gods. “I’m very happy we’ll be having all the sex.”

“You should be,” Mirajane replied after a slight pause. “I’m very bendy.”

At that moment, Gray was acutely aware of his brain rolling over and dying.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Mirajane said and came even closer.

“Not if I kiss you first,” he replied mechanically, his voice cracking at the end.

Mirajane placed a hand on his waist, so he placed a hand on her waist. She responded by cupping his rear so Gray went upstairs. His hand hovered over her chest before he gave up and settled for her shoulder.

“H-h-here it comes,” said Mirajane.

Gray gulped. He stared at her face, doing everything he could to not look down. Then as she leaned in, he glanced her glistening lips and squirmed out of her grip.

“Good gods, Mira, cover up your boobies I can’t look,” he said in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t kiss ya, okay?”

“Hah!” Mirajane jumped while rapidly closing buttons. “And why is that?”

“Because I love Erza!”

Mirajane stopped her victory jump, her mouth falling open in shock. Even Erza came out of the bathroom.

“That’s right,” Gray declared, throwing his arms about. “I love Erza.” He pointed at her. “I! Love! Erza!”

“What?!” Erza and Mirajane exclaimed in unison, causing Gray to panic even more.

“What?” he asked. “I said I couldn’t kiss her and then I just stopped talking!”

“You just said you loved me, I can’t believe this,” Erza said as she walked up to him, arms outstretched. Gray shrank away, laughing nervously.

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You love me,” Erza said, waggling her finger at him, grinning broadly.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” Gray kept repeating as he started jumping in one spot. “I can’t even think anymore!”

“I thought you two were just doing it! I didn’t know you were in love!” Mirajane exclaimed happily, covering her face with her hands.

Erza finally wrapped her arms around Gray and hugged him tightly. “I love you too, Gray,” she said quietly.

A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him and Gray sighed deeply.

“Yeah,” he muttered into Erza’s hair. “I love you three, but I just wanna lie down, okay?”

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“Erza, your husband’s here,” Cana called as soon as Gray walked through the doors. He glared at her, but she stuck out her tongue at him.

Mirajane had been sworn into secrecy, so of course everybody knew. Not that there was much shock or otherwise overboard behaviour. If anything, Gray was astounded at how many people had been betting on him and Erza getting together, Wakaba chief among them. It was revealed that he had placed his bets the very day Gray had gotten his ass handed to him by Erza for the first time. It was mind-boggling.

Other than that, though, it was business as usual.

“But just imagine!” Mirajane said with a laugh and a clap of her hands as he sat down beside Erza. “If you two ever have kids-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gray stopped her before she could get going. “We’re having kids?”

“I call Godfather,” announced Loke from a distant table.

“Lyon might have a problem with that,” Mirajane pointed out. “He is next-of-kin, technically.”

“Hey, if he bothered to call Godfather first, I would consider it, but I don’t see him around. Do you?”

Gray buried his face in his hands. Thankfully, Erza came to his aid.

“You’re all a few steps ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” Gray added. “Big, zero-gravity, moon steps.”

“Oh!” Mirajane exclaimed, undeterred. “I just thought of the greatest wedding present for you two!”

“I’ll go in on that with you,” came Cana’s voice. “I couldn’t think of anything.”

He knew they were joking around, but it was an eventuality. Well, a probable eventuality. They didn’t necessarily have to get married. For whatever reason. Maybe they would break up. Maybe Jellal would finally show up. The future wasn’t something he could control. Especially those of others. And if they had kids, who was to say he wouldn’t fuck everything up? What if he hurt her enough for her to turn away from him? Or the kid?

I’m not cut out for that sorta thing.

Gray pinched his eyes.

The responsibility for moulding another person’s life and personality and thoughts? Actually inspiring them? I just don’t have enough balls for that. It frightens the fuck outta me, thinking I’ll ruin the lives of others.

He leaned forward, pushing his fingers against his eyes until he saw stars against the back of his lids.

What am I doing?

There was no air. No sound, either. Except the drumming of his heart in his ears. He opened his mouth and took a breath to steady himself. Felt a hand on his back. Whispered words against his ear.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he replied instinctually. The world was coming back to him. The chatter, the smells, the feeling of people staring at him. Gray opened his eyes and looked at Erza. There was so much concern in her eyes that it broke his heart to have caused that, for even a miniscule moment. She did love him, and the least he could do was be truthful. “No.”

At that, Erza stood up and barked, “Quiet!”

Immediately there was pin-drop silence. Even in his state, Gray almost smiled. As Erza sat down again, he shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts, but they were there to stay. They had been waiting to haunt him and now that the honeymoon phase was over, they had reared their head.

“What’s the matter?” she asked him.

Gray didn’t know what to tell her. So he placed his hands on the counter and pushed himself to his feet.

“I can’t. I gotta go.”

“Gray? Go where?”

“Take a walk.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll talk to you later, I promise.”

She knew he was good for his word. He saw from her face that she didn’t like it, but she trusted him, and she nodded.

Gray walked out of the guild and turned left. When in doubt, go left. That had always worked for him. He didn’t remember where from he’d picked up the habit, but he stuck to it.

Was he really going to think about abandoning her and all he had with her? Was that something he was seriously about to consider? Gray shook his head, both angry and ashamed at himself. Then he took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Don’t analyse data you don’t have, he reminded himself. So what do you know for certain?

Erza wanted a normal life. House in the country, lawn, pool, husband, kids. That he knew because she’d told him herself. And that was the natural progression, wasn’t it? People who loved each other mostly got married and had kids. Evergreen and Elfman, Gajeel and Levy, Alzac and Bisca… examples were all around him. He didn’t know for sure, but he guessed that he himself was the product of the union of two people who loved each other.

Gray didn’t remember his parents. All he had were faded memories. He couldn’t put a face to his mother’s name, and while he’d had to fight his resurrected father, there hadn’t been enough time for a meaningful conversation. Ur had taken him in when she didn’t have to. She didn’t fear the responsibility.

He passed a playground to his right. Kids aged four to eight were playing. Swinging on the swings, going around the merry-go-round, slipping down the slide, running around trying to catch each other. He smiled to himself and kept walking.

All the faces had displayed hopefulness and happiness. Happiness stemmed from security, and security from knowledge that there were people you could trust back home who had your back.

What did he have in his heart when he was their age? Vengeance and violence. Trauma from a demon having stampeded through his village and slaughtered everyone he knew. And that hatred in his heart had gotten Ur killed. It was a choice she’d made. That was something parents would do for kids. That was something he had done before for Erza and the others.

I trust you, Gray. More than perhaps you trust yourself, she’d told him. What had she seen in him? What had she seen that he didn’t? What did she know about him that he didn’t?

Gray passed by a store with a glass front and instinctually stopped and stared at himself. He couldn’t see what Erza had seen. Not really. Other than the fact that he had a similar facial structure to Jellal, nothing came to mind. He’d known a long time that they were similar looking. Jellal had had Erza’s heart in his hand, so to speak. He’d chosen to throw it away due to reasons both selfless and selfish.

Am I going to do the same? Am I doing the same? Am I pulling a Jellal and rationalising this as me not being good enough for her?

There were never enough answers. Never enough, if any at all.

He shook his head and when he looked back at the glass, his eyes focused on what was behind it instead of on his reflection. And he couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was a shop that sold baby products, with little shirts and diapers and soap and cots displayed behind the window. He wondered what all he’d grown up with, whether he’d been a handful. At least he’d had people to raise him. Erza never even had that. The Tower had fucked her up for good and still she wanted to bring new lives into this world. That took courage. Like Ur, she was willing to take responsibility when she didn’t have to.

Gray stared at the little shirts on display. He reached out and placed his palm on the glass against a white shirt with the face of a cartoon cat on it. It was marginally bigger than his hand if he stretched his fingers out.

Something this small can’t be that scary… right?

He moved on before the shopkeepers thought he was a potential customer. Not today, Devil.

For all his thinking, he only came away with two conclusions. The first was that Erza had never personally told him that she wanted marriage and kids right then and there. It was a conversation they would have in time, when they were ready for it. It was a nonexistent problem, and freaking out over it was a waste of time.

The second was more personal. I’m no Jellal.

So after a few more minutes spent walking around aimlessly, Gray set his course for the guildhall. Everything fell silent as he entered this time but he didn’t look at anybody other than the redhead at the bar who stood up. She came forward and opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand to stop her.

“I have serious commitment issues,” he began. “I’m not ready for marriage or children, and that shit still freaks me out, I won’t lie. I’m all fucked up in the head, I guess.” He shrugged, smiling. “I have no idea how to be a good husband or a good dad. Honestly, I’ve never even been in a relationship that’s lasted as long as this. To get past the beginning and still want to be with each other is all new territory for me. And you know what?” He took her hands in his. “I’m excited, and I’m happy because all this is happening with you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s scary but in a good way, you know? And I want you to know that with time, I’ll figure stuff about marriage and parenthood. I do want to give you the life you want, but I can’t get there alone.” He sighed and looked down at their interlinked hands, then up at Erza’s attentive, albeit emotional, face.

“I’m not the best at this,” he told her. “Not by a long shot. But I’m trying, okay? So be patient with me because I think I’m capable of doing this.”

Erza responded by barrelling into his chest and wrapping her arms around him as the hall erupted in applause, whistling and sobbing. Gray was stunned momentarily.

“I know you are,” Erza told him. “Same for me, honestly. I’m figuring it out as I go along, too.”

Chuckling, Gray returned the embrace. “Lend me any books on babies you might have.” Then he turned and glared at Loke. “And no, asshole, you don’t get to call Godfather.”

Erza laughed giddily into his chest at that. As far as Gray was concerned, the world was a little bit more right than it was when he’d woken up, and that was good enough.

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“Did you ever realise that a house is just a place where you keep your stuff?” Gray asked Erza as she stepped out of the shower. She looked at him incredulously.

“What?”

“No, think about it. A house is a place to keep your stuff. If you didn’t have stuff, you wouldn’t need a house.”

“That is… a fairly true assessment.”

Gray nodded to himself. “Have you also realised that your shit is stuff and other peoples’ stuff is shit?”

Erza laughed as she dried her hair. “Is there a point to this, or are you free associating?”

While she could requip anytime she wanted, Erza still kept some of her things at Gray’s place. A toothbrush, a few spare clothes, a towel or two, a sword here and there. Normal, everyday things. Gray always made room for those but this was getting ridiculous.

So he’d decided to bring this up. And after two weeks of planning, he’d finally acted.

Gray got up and walked over to her. “Well, I was just wondering…”

“Hmm?”

“Where d’you keep all your stuff?”

“Pocket dimension.”

“Huh. So you don’t need stuff lyin’ around all over the place,” he said cautiously. “Technically speaking.”

She looked at him. “Not really. I can just summon whatever I need.”

“So you don’t need palatial suites to live or anything, right?”

“No.”

“So, I was thinking…”

“Gray, is this about the underwear I left at your place last week?”

“What? No, no. Nothing like that. I was just thinking what it’d be like if all your stuff was here.”

“Then I’d be going back and forth all the time,” she replied, tilting her head left and right as she considered it. “Wouldn’t make much sense.”

“Okay.” Gray sighed. “How about we live together? Does that make sense?”

Erza immediately ceased all action. “Live together?” she asked uncertainly. “We didn’t talk about this. Are you sure?”

“Well, I am asking, so.”

She immediately threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, laughing mirthfully. Gray couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“Yes,” she replied eventually when he stopped spinning her around and let her down. She looked really happy as she said it. “Yes, Gray. I would love that.”

“I would, too.” He kissed her gently. “It’s been a year, you know? About time we took the next step.”

“I could have waited.”

“Well, I was tired. Now we can totally be naked all the time.”

“Gray…”

“It wasn’t the only motivational factor, I swear!”

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Gray knew it was only a matter of time. He had known this could happen. He had thought about it endlessly. What had kept him from acting when he knew it was a very real possibility, he didn’t know. Almost a year had passed since Erza had moved in with in. More than two since the first time they’d gotten together. They were happy, but things never stayed the same for too long.

Two years was a long time, and he should’ve seen it coming.

It had all started so normally. So innocently. She made dinner. His favourites. She did that at least four times a year. Nothing suspicious about that. But she was tense. He should’ve noticed her body language, sensed that something was off.

One minute they were eating and laughing, the next she was on her knees, holding up a ring.

And all Gray could do was gawk wordlessly.

“Gray,” she began, smile firmly in place but voice shaky. “In all my life, I never thought I would be so lucky.” She sniffed. “As to fall in love with my best-” She covered her mouth with her hands and then flapped them in an effort to regain composure. He saw her tearing up and felt himself tear up as a result. “To fall in love with my best-” She stopped again, and when she spoke again, her voice was too heavy to be understandable. “There’s a reason why girls don’t do this!”

It’s your time, Fullbuster! Take the spotlight! Slay the demon! Marry the princess! Make it or break it, kid! Wax on, wax off! The Force is with you! Erza: the final frontier! Freedom!

He fell to his knees and took her hands in his, sniffing as he did so.

If you screw up now after that pep talk, Imma thump you.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly. The words came to him without him even having to think about it.

“I thought,” he began, but choked up immediately. He held up a finger. “I can, I can do this.”

Erza laughed through the sniffing and nodded. Gray swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I thought that it mattered what I said, and where I said it.” He looked at her, ignoring the fact that his eyes decided to leak without his permission. At least he could see her face clearly. “But then I realised that the only thing that mattered was that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be.”

He looked at the ring in her hands. It was a simple silver band. No stones. He loved it.

But it wouldn’t do. So he took his hands away from hers, and squished his palms together.

“And if you let me,” he said as gentle white light radiated from between the gaps of his fingers. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way.”

He held the ice ring between his thumb and forefinger and took her left hand. The ring was cold, but it would have to do for now. Erza chuckled when she saw it, so she wouldn’t mind it much.

“So, Erza Scarlet, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

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“Well,” Gray said, hands on hips, after the last box was unpacked. “That’s that.”

“Mhmm.” Erza came and stood beside him, putting an arm around his waist. “That’s that.”

The house was a bit pricey – real estate was always tricky – but it was a good investment. It was a good neighbourhood, and not too far from the city. Two stories, plenty of space, lots of sunlight. There was no pool, but there was a lawn, and a little winding road dotted with oak trees that led down to a stream. It was nice and quiet, something Gray had no problem with.

“Marriage, house,” Erza said, looking around the living room. “Not bad.”

“We’re growing up,” Gray replied. “Now all we need is kids and we’re adults.”

“Yes. About that.”

Gray looked at her. She was smiling.

“Wait, what?”

“Welcome to an adult relationship. Is it everything you hoped and dreamed it would be?”

Gray said nothing. Erza placed her hand on his chest.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied after a while. “Just thinking what colour I should paint the swing set Imma build.”

There was no fear now. There was no room for it. Not anymore.

As he picked up his giggling wife bridal style and peppered her face with kisses, the only thing Gray Fullbuster felt was excitement.

The good things had only started happening. And they would enjoy every moment that came their way.

#long post #born-potty #grayza #grayza week #grayzaweek #grayzaweek2018 #submission #fanfiction #it wouldnt let me put in a read more thing sorry fam #day 5: friends to lovers #day 5

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afjakwritesarchive · 6 years

Text

NWC #10

Started this on Friday, just finished it today. This is definitely one of the better ones I’ve written for this challenge, although I can’t say I’ve totally mastered it yet.

Pairing: USUK + France & UK friendship :) Words: 2,716 Rating: T AU: Human/Cardverse kinda Genre: Romance Summary: The Prince of Spades is engaged to be married, but not to the man he loves. A/N: Lmao, I’m always writing fics where Arthur is in love with Alfred first!! I need to write one where they fall in love at the same time hahaha.

It was raining in Spades kingdom. Arthur gazed wistfully out the window, wishing for sunshine. Although he usually loved the rain, he'd made plans earlier in the week to take an outing to the market, accompanied by his fiancée. Since it was an outdoor market and the rain showed no signs of letting up, he and Francis had resolved to stay inside for the day and finalize plans for their wedding.

"A pianist or a harpist?" Arthur asked the man, shifting through the profiles the wedding planner had given them which gave a small summary of any relevant information for each of their music options.

"Pianist." Francis said. "We've been at this for hours. Can we do something else?" He asked.

Arthur nodded, relieved by the man's suggestion. "Thank God you said something; I'm starting to get a headache from all of these tedious plans. What do you want to do instead?"

"Well, we could go to the window and watch Alfred while he works," Francis suggested with a cheeky grin, resting his chin in palm as he gazed across the table at Arthur.

Arthur felt heat rise to his face and attempted to cover it up with anger. "Oh, shut it, frog! What reason would I have to stare at a garden hand?" He huffed, feigning ignorance to Francis' implications.

"Perhaps the fact that you're foolishly in love with him might have something to do with it," said Francis in return, blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Arthur glared down the table at Francis, abnormally thick brows furrowed and thin lips downturned in attempt to silence his fiancée. The man merely laughed, flipped his long, wavy hair over his shoulder, and leaned back in his chair.

It was common knowledge within the palace that the Arthur and his fiancée weren't in love each other. They certainly loved each other, yes; they'd been best friends since their infancy (though neither would admit any degree of affection for the other under the pain of death). Soon after Arthur was born, his parents had selected his fiancée for him. As the Prince of Spades, he'd needed someone high-ranking, with wealth and good manners. Francis, the son of a Duke, had been an easy selection to make. The pair had grown up together, always aware of their engagement, but they'd never fallen in love.

Francis had fallen in love with a similarly-ranking official in the Clubs kingdom ages ago, and the pair had been in a secret relationship for years. Arthur was well-aware of their relationship, and while it wasn't much of a scandal for Francis to he with someone else until he and Arthur were actually married, they'd both thought it best to keep it well-hidden.

Arthur, for his part, had remained impervious to love for the better portion of his twenty years of life. Unlike Francis, who had been in many relationships over the years, Arthur had never formed any long-lasting romantic inclinations toward anyone. He considered himself more of a solitary individual, needing only the occasional 'company' of a second person to sate him.

That is, until his father had hired a new gardener.

Alfred Jones was barely sixteen when he started working for the castle. Arthur, one year his senior, had been taken instantly by the incredible beauty the man possessed. He became a habitual wanderer of the extensive castle grounds in hopes of seeing Alfred, and his goal was reached more often than not. The pair became fast friends, often swapping sarcastic insults back and forth and debating whatever topic had been presented.

A year with Alfred passed faster than any other year of Arthur's life, a feat which the Brit couldn't help but to attribute to the newfound happiness he'd gained upon Alfred's arrival. Soon, a year had become two, and two became three. Although Arthur knew them to be the happiest years of his life, they had also been filled with incredible torment, for Arthur had fallen madly in love with Alfred.

To love Alfred doomed Arthur. The American, while possessing many charms, was of no rank or wealth. Even if Arthur had been able to break his engagement to Francis, he would never be permitted to be with Alfred, nor did Arthur know if Alfred even wanted to be with him. While Arthur had grown closer to Alfred than anyone else he knew, he was clueless to the American's feelings for him in return. Alfred had told Arthur of several hook-ups during their friendship, and though none of them were recent, he hadn't given the Brit any reason to believe he felt anything more than a platonic affection for him.

A knock at the door interrupted Arthur and Francis' silent stare-down. Arthur rose from his seat and opened the door, flushing at the sight of the man in the doorway.

Alfred was standing standing outside the door, soaking wet from head to toe and running a hand through his waterlogged hair. Dirt covered his clothes and arms, along with a smudge on his cheek. He dropped his hands at the sight of Arthur, bowing respectfully before he looked up and grinned at the Brit.

"Hi, your highness," Alfred greeted.

"H-Hello, Alfred." Arthur greeted in reply, trying his hardest not to think about the soaking wet shirt that currently was clinging to Alfred's perfectly toned torso.

"I'm supposed to ask what kind of flowers you want for the wedding. We're gonna start planting them around the garden."

"Today? Isn't it a bit early for that?" Arthur questioned, frowning.

Alfred shrugged. "Not necessarily, but if you don't know yet, you still have some time before you have to know. Do you want me to come back another time?"

"Er, no, we've picked the flowers." Arthur turned on his heel and retreated into the room, motioning for Alfred to follow him in.

" Hi, Duke Bonnefoy." Alfred greeted with a respectful bow to the man in the room.

Francis smiled knowingly and waggled his fingers in the way of a wave. Then, standing suddenly, he turned to Arthur.

"You know, I think I'd like to go try on some of the clothes I bought yesterday." Francis said.

"What?" Arthur asked, surprised. "But—" when Francis shot him a pointed look and jerked his head toward Alfred (who was preoccupied by the various documents strewn about the table), Arthur paused and abruptly shut his mouth. Then, "yes. Alright."

"Oh, and Alfred?"

The American's head jerked up and he turned toward Francis. "Yes, sir?" He asked.

"Would you please do me the favor of bringing Arthur dinner tonight? He'll eat in his room at seven. Usually I would, but I'm afraid I have a meeting tonight and will be otherwise occupied." Francis explained, a sweet smile plastered onto his handsome face.

"Wha—Francis!" Arthur sputtered, gaping.

Alfred nodded. "Of course, sir, as you wish. I would be happy to." He said.

"Thank you, Alfred. You are divine." Francis purred, shooting a cheeky smile in Arthur's direction before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

"So," Alfred said, turning back toward Arthur. "What were the flowers you wanted?" He asked.

"Erm, I think we've settled on white orchids." Arthur answered, somewhat flushed in the face. "Francis prefers them."

Alfred raised a brow. "You don't like them?"

"No, they're lovely, really. I'm partial to the rose, though." Arthur answered, shrugging. "Ah, well. Sometimes sacrifices must be made in order to get married."

Alfred frowned. "What kind of sacrifices? I thought getting married was supposed to be something amazing, y'know? I mean, especially if you're in love, right?" He said naively.

Arthur sighed heavily, meeting Alfred's eyes for a moment. Incredible sadness swam in them, and Alfred seemed aware of it. He took a step forward. Alfred reached for the Prince's face only to stop short, instead dropping his hand to the elder's shoulder.

"Arthur...?" Began Alfred gently, concern etched into his handsome face.

"I suppose therein lies the problem," said Arthur sadly. "For Francis and I may be getting married, but we don't love each other. Not the way two people are supposed to when getting married. It's an arrangement I've been aware of since I was barely four years old, and I had held out hope that one day he and I might grow to fall in love with each other, but..."

"But?" Alfred questioned, eyes searching his friend's face.

Arthur raised his head and summoned all of his courage. God, Alfred had to know. Couldn't he see how much the Prince adored him? How much he wanted to be with him? How could the American even begin to think Arthur loved Francis when he was so clearly mad for him?

"Because I love you, Alfred." Arthur stated plainly, his eyes gazing steadily into the American's.

Alfred paused, seeming frozen. His calloused hand slipped from Arthur's shoulder and the plush lips Arthur longed to kiss fell open into an 'o' of surprise, simply gaping in awe at the Prince. Then, finally, "...What?"

"I love you, Alfred. I've loved you since the day I saw you. You're the only one I want—the only one I've ever wanted so much. I've never been in love before but I know I love you because my heart aches so much I lay awake at night thinking of you and I can't stand the thought that I'll be married before the year is out because I know you're far too respectable to ever try and be with me when I'm married. God, Alfred, I'm so mad for you I can't think when you're around, I'm absolutely hypnotized by you." Arthur rambled, pouring his emotions out before the American with the beginnings of tears in his eyes. The emotions he'd long concealed were spilling from him and he couldn't seem to restrain himself.

Alfred was still staring at him. "But I'm just your servant. F-Francis is your fiancee!" Alfred insisted, wide-eyed.

Arthur's throat constricted painfully, now well aware that Alfred didn't return his feelings in the slightest. "I know, I know. But I'm not in love with him. I've simply been arranged to marry him. It was never my choice, nor was it my choice to fall in love with you. I just did." He explained.

And then Alfred was taking Arthur by the arms and walking him backwards until the Prince's back hit the wall. Alfred pressed himself against him and they were kissing and Arthur was melting, his knees going weak and his body completely in Alfred's hands, hot and panting and kissing the man feverishly. Alfred had his hands on Arthur's hips and Arthur was pushing himself against Alfred, tugging at the silky golden hair he'd always longed to run his hands through.

Alfred broke away and Arthur whined. "Alfred—!" He whined, hooking his arms around the American's neck.

"This is wrong," Alfred said, carefully pulling Arthur's arms away from him. "I'm here to serve you and Duke Francis. I can't divide you two like this! You're set to take the throne soon with him at your side, I-I can't do this to you two!"

"Wait, please, Alfred! Please, I-I love you!" Arthur cried, taking the younger's arm when he tried to walk away.

Alfred's face fell. "I love you too," he whispered, incredible pain in his eyes. "You're my best friend, Arthur. I can't stand that you're about to marry him. I can't stand that someone else gets to have you. But I don't deserve you, and it's obvious nothing can be done about this."

Arthur shook his head rapidly. "N-No! No, something can be done! There has to be something! God, Alfred if I had known I'd have been fighting this engagement so long ago! Please, don't leave me when I've only just gotten a taste of you. Please." Arthur begged.

Tears were swimming in Alfred's eyes now. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry." He said.

With a quick parting kiss to the Brit's lips, he was gone.

Arthur was pacing across his bedroom with his hands clasped behind his back when a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in!" He called.

The door opened and Alfred appeared with a tray balanced on his palm. "Dinner, your highness." He mumbled, keeping his head down so as not to meet Arthur's eyes.

The Prince rushed forward, snatching the tray out of Alfred's hand. The American looked up, astonished, as the Prince half-tossed the tray down onto his writing desk and then took him by the arms, tugging him closer. "I talked to my parents," he said.

Alfred blinked rapidly. "What?"

"I spoke to my parents about you!" Arthur answered, hands trembling as they gripped the American.

Alfred floundered. "I-I don't understand."

"I was going absolutely mad thinking of you and I couldn't let myself sit by and do nothing as my future was decided for me. I love you, Alfred. I have to be with you. I'd rather live the rest of my life alone than be bound to anyone else. I'd fight forever just to have you kiss me again."

Alfred still seemed perplexed. "B-But what about Francis?" He asked, seeming concerned.

"Francis is madly in love with a member of the King's Court in Clubs! He's been trying to help you and I get together since the day he realized I loved you, and I've been fighting it and resigning myself to this horrid fate because the possibility of someone as angelic as you ever loving me back was so slim, and I didn't want to destroy everything my parents had worked so hard for. But you do love me, and therefore I cannot ever allow myself to marry Francis. I won't take my place as king without you by my side." Arthur said quickly, nervous once more.

Alfred was completely astounded, and made his feelings known. "B-But—Arthur, I'm your servant! Your parents would never allow it! What if you're tearing everything apart for nothing? What if they disown you or something? I couldn't give you the life you deserve. I can't do this to you," he argued.

Arthur cupped Alfred's face in his hands, staring up at him with adoration. "My love, while I admire your selflessness, there is no need for it. I told my parents I refused to take the throne if you could not have a place beside me, and they agreed. They couldn't sacrifice their only son. Besides, they love me; they want me to be happy. While I can't say it will be easy on you, I will defend you no matter what. You are the one I want, and nothing on Earth can change that."

"S-So you're not marrying Duke Francis?"

"Lord, no! I'll be marrying you! That is, if you still want me after our year is up."

"I'll always want you," Alfred murmured, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Arthur's. "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," Arthur said, a blissful smile set upon his face.

"You're seriously all mine?" Alfred asked again, as if to be sure he wasn't simply imagining it.

Arthur's smile grew into an all-out grin. "Yes, I'm all yours. Completely wrapped around your finger."

"Damn. I get to date the Crown Prince of Spades. I'm a lucky guy, huh?"

Arthur smiled. "No; I am. I get to date the best gardener in all of Spades."

Alfred's head fell back, laughing. Arthur gazed upon the American's laughing face with adoration. That smile would make all well in his world.

#mine #text #usuk #usuk fic #aph #aph fic #hetalia #hetalia fic #my writing #!!!#arranged marriage #arthur loves al but is marrying frances #**francis #francis loves someone else too #francis and arthur are friends #nwc #royalty au

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katesofheaven · 7 years

Text

Caldwell Academy chapter 34

previous chapter chapter one

tw: mention of blood

It’s silent in the hallway for a while. Phil sits on one side, hands on his knees, and Dan’s on the other, staring at the floor. Phil hears his own words echo around Dan’s head and feels a pang of guilt, followed by annoyance. Annoyance at himself. He doesn’t want to say it, but he does.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, not looking at the boy across from him. In his peripheral vision he sees Dan look up.

He stares at him for a long time and Phil continues to look away, until Dan lets out something between a breath and a laugh. “No, you’re not.”

Phil finally turns his head, meeting Dan’s eyes. He shakes his head slightly. “No. I’m not.”

The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches up in response but falls back down after a second. He looks back down at his hands. “I’m sorry I left you, Phil.”

Phil stares at him, nodding, processing. He can’t respond. He can’t forgive him, not yet.

“You didn’t deserve that. But at the same time—Phil,” Dan shakes his head again. “You’re too good for me. That sounds fucking lame. But, Phil, I kill people. And I like it.” Phil’s stomach churns. “You deserve someone who isn’t a fucking psychopath. You deserve a normal, safe relationship. That was never what we had, I… I’m a murderer. I’ll always be a murderer, even if I stop killing people.”

Phil nods again. He knows he’s right.

“But I did love you, Phil. I didn’t lie about that.”

Did.

He did love me.

Phil lets out a laugh, wiping a tear off his cheek. He stands up. “We should get going.”

Dan stares up at him from the ground for a moment before nodding and hoisting himself up, taking the lead down the corridor. “We’re almost to the gym. They’re going to be waiting for us. Stay behind me.” Phil nods even though Dan can’t see him, mirroring his pace as they make their way to the exit.

After a few hundred meters they approach a heavy door at the end of the hallway, and Dan stops. He turns to Phil. “I’m going to have to defend us both in there.” Phil meets his eyes and, after a beat, nods. “I need you to stay close to me, and we need to move as fast as possible.” Phil nods again. Dan rests his hand on the handle of the door, looks at Phil briefly, and turns it.

Dr. Mathis is right on the other side. Behind him are Rachel, Evie, quite a few people Dan’s never seen before, and the two men who told him about Caldwell a lifetime ago, Keith and Arthur.

Mathis shakes his head disappointedly at the two of them. “Seventy three.” Phil glances at Dan in confusion but the other boy looks just as perplexed. “You just killed seventy three men in the same instant,” the doctor sighs. “Such a talent, Dan. You really are. Such a waste. And Phil,” Mathis says, turning to him. “You really could have helped our cause, son.”

Phil glares at him. “Don’t call me s—“

“But you are too much of a coward to go after what you want. Forever the victim,” he says wistfully. “Too blind to see what’s been right in front of you your whole life.” His eyes pierce through Phil’s. “The fact that you are simply not needed.” Phil’s chin starts to quiver but he still manages to look at Mathis through a mask of hate. His heart feels like it’s stopped beating.

“That’s not true,” Dan blurts, “That’s not true, Phil.” He reaches for his hand but Phil crosses his arms slowly, weakly, eyes on the ground.

“And now both of you have to die because of Dan’s… unfortunate moment of disloyalty. And, Dan… there is another person who must die tonight. I have heard through the grapevine that you’ve told someone else about yourself? About Caldwell Academy?”

Dan’s stomach drops. Fear suddenly fills his blood stream and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

Oh my god.

Adrian.

“How… How could you know that?”

Mathis waves a hand dismissively. “I have friends everywhere, Dan, world leaders… bums living on street corners,” he says, glancing knowingly at him. Dan’s hands start to shake.

Those people he and his brother had walked past on their way home, sitting in the shadows, asking for money… one of them had been working for Dr. Mathis. One of them had seen Dan use his powers in front of his little brother.

“We’re sending someone tonight to take care of Adrian. Dan, I’m truly s—“

Dan lunges at him but Mathis steps out of the way. He whips around and raises his hand, releasing that familiar energy, but nothing happens. Dr. Mathis smiles, shaking his head. Dan screams in frustration and tries again, this time wanting to break the doctor’s neck just like with the guards, but again nothing happens.

Mathis nods behind him to Arthur, who walks up to Dan and Phil.

He smiles apologetically. “Hi, boys.”

They stare at him. Dan realizes he never found out Arthur’s ability; Keith was a waterbender, but he had always just assumed Arthur was normal.

He clears his throat and holds out his hands, almost touching the two boys but pausing. “This really won’t hurt, I promise. One touch, and you’ll be gone. Like falling asleep. Ready?”

Dan looks at Phil and holds out his hand again, but this time Phil takes it, heart pounding against his chest in defiance of what’s about to happen. He closes his eyes and feels Arthur’s hand get closer but suddenly it’s gone—he opens his eyes and Arthur is floating ten feet off the ground, as if in zero gravity…

He falls back to the ground and is immediately dragged away by a grizzly bear.

Phil splutters. “PJ?”

The bear ignores him and closes his jaw around Arthur’s neck, twisting and jerking until a thick stream of blood is flowing. The bear rears up on its hind legs and shrinks back down into their friend, wiping his mouth and spitting out blood. “You guys okay?” He calls, and Dan and Phil both nod slowly, eyes wide. PJ bends over, spitting out more blood, one hand resting on his knee and the other one giving a thumbs-up.

They both start running toward their friends at the back of the gym, every student in their class, led by Sandra, who isn’t looking at them at all. She’s marching toward Mathis’ men with purpose. Mathis seems to have processed what has happened, and smiles at the small group of teenagers. “You all are quite talented! I do commend you. However,” he says with a grin, “You really have killed yourselves, if you think about it. You’ve forced my hand.” Sandra thrusts her arms at him, trying to lift him into the air, but nothing happens. She looks down at her hands in surprise and tries again to no avail.

“Unfortunately none of that will work with me around,” Mathis says humbly. The people around him all take out their guns and point them at the group, and Dan has never felt more powerless in his life.

Powerless…

He glances at Evie. She meets his eyes and nods almost imperceptibly, giving him a small smile. He smiles back.

“Guys,” he murmurs, not looking away from the guns. “When I say, run.”

There are a few beats of silence. Evie takes out her gun.

“Now.”

*author’s note*

we are almost to the end guys. it’s been an honor working with you

also! there is a lot of death coming. i believe the technical term is ‘a shitload of death’

next chapter

#daniel howell #amazingphil #phan #phanfiction #au #superpowers #telekinesis #telepathy #danisnotonfire #boarding school #kickthepj #crabstickz #caldwell academy

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plotmaster · 7 years

Text

I have no heart, for you long ago stole it

Summary: In which Eros, one of the six gods of love, falls for a mortal who thinks he's unlovable.

Or in which Yuuri goes to the Temple of Eros to plea for help and ends up being courted by the god himself instead.

based off of this artwork by @crimson-chains

read on ao3

word count: 4k

Yuuri Katsuki is an unlovable man, and that is the fact of the matter.

Don’t get him wrong, his parents love him. His sister loves him, his friends regard him with close platonic affection. Yet, no one has ever stepped forward to ask for his hand to court, asked him to walk with them under the romantic spread of a starlit street.

He has walked that road before, where all couples in their city stroll while leaning into each other and laughing at the joy of being together, but Yuuri always walks it alone, to use as a shortcut from his home to his mentor’s studio. He convinces himself, most days, that the solitude of his footsteps on that road doesn’t mean anything.

Some days though, he speeds his steps and tries to touch his sandals to path as little as possible, because it is a place for lovers, and Yuuri — for all the friends he has and all the love that surrounds him — has no one to walk down it with. He doesn’t belong there. On other days, he simply takes a long detour, to avoid being reminded of the lack of romance in his life.

It is his sixth failed blind date set up by his friend Phichit that gives him the painful revelation that he’s unlovable. “You’re not my type,” they say, or, “I don’t think that we’d work out,” even though their conversation had been light and their company joyful. It’s like a switch goes off between their last laugh and their last words — one moment their feelings are synched, and Yuuri thinks that they will want to meet again, but the next moment their eyes shutter, and they say with barely any regret that they would rather not meet again at all.

Phichit declares that they’re foolish, and so is Yuuri. “You’re not unlovable!” he insists, gold bangles clinking together as his hands gesture wildly. “People have different tastes, Yuuri, and they probably decided that you didn’t fit it!”

“Six times in a row?” Yuuri asks, sitting on the stone steps leading to his home. “If I really wasn’t their type, Phichit, I’m pretty sure that they would leave earlier than, say, twenty minutes after we’re done eating.” He sighs, dropping his head onto his hands. “It’s strange. One moment everything is fine, and I think that this is the one, we can work things out, but the next they just... don’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Well, that’s a good thing then,” Phichit says, his eyes hard, “If they don’t want anything to do with you, they don’t deserve you.” He reaches for a comforting pat on the shoulder. “But trust me, Yuuri, you are not unlovable at all and anyone that thinks you are should get their head checked by the doctors.”

Yuuri accepts the pat with a small smile. “Thanks, Phichit,” he replies, standing up and brushing some dirt off his tunic. “I think I’m going to go inside now. My parents will want to know... and I’ll have to tell them that it didn’t work out. Again.” He drops his chin with a sigh, but squares his shoulders to go in and face them.

His parents take the news as well as they normally do — that is, comforting him and telling him that maybe next time, things would work out. They mean well, he knows, and they want the best for him, but sometimes their comfort feels like pity, and it aches. Gnaws at his heart with anxiety. Mari is fortunate, he thinks, she doesn’t want a romantic relationship, and she’s happy.

On the other hand, Yuuri dreams of it, regards the thought of romance wistfully and hopes with all his heart to someday have someone to walk down the lover’s lane with. Taller than me, he decides as he walks to his room. Taller, with eyes that sparkle when they look at me.

As he enters his room and takes off his tunic to change into a more comfortable one so he can help downstairs in the restaurant part of the building, a dove coos before spreading its white wings and flying away.

“Maybe,” his sister slides to stand next to him during a lull in the dinner shift, taking a drag of her smoking pipe, “Maybe you should pay a visit to a temple.”

Yuuri can’t help but give her a surprised look. “What for?”

“I heard from mom and dad about how the latest date went,” Mari drawls before setting her pipe aside. She reaches up to adjust her hair instead. “I was thinking that maybe you should pay an offering to one of the gods to meet the right person for you. I can tell that you’re not as okay with this situation as you tell our parents.” She fixes him with a knowing stare.

Yuuri winces, but can feel gratefulness welling in his heart. Mari has always been blunt, and has always been good at reading him, and her well-meaning doesn’t come off as pity that much. “Which god would I even go to?” he asks. “There are six gods of love, Mari.”

“Eros,” she says without hesitation. “Seduce yourself someone nice, little brother.” She throws him a wink as she gets back to work, leaving Yuuri sputtering with embarrassment.

The embarrassment manifests on his face as a near-perpetual blush for the rest of the evening, and even carries onto the next morning. Eros, the god of sexual love? He hasn’t had sex much (mostly to enjoy the physical sensation with one or two of his close friends, to understand how the pleasure works) but Yuuri knows that Eros is not the kind of love that he’s interested in. Sexual love is... a way to start a relationship, but Yuuri wants something longer, slower, more long-lasting. Pragma.

Eros is the spark of the first meeting, an excited tension that carries people together into bed to enjoy themselves. It’s a love that one would do mad things for. Eros is what spurred the reputation of Helen of Troy, the woman so beautiful that all sorts of people across the land came to court her. Yuuri doesn’t want to lose control like that, or for someone to go mad for him. (Even if the thought is flattering.)

At noon, however, Yuuri fastens on his best tunic and laces on his sandals to go to the temple of Eros. After all, it had been the one that Mari suggested, and there really was no harm in taking her advice. I can visit Pragma another day, if Eros does not work out.

The dove that usually perches on his windowsill coos louder than normal that day, before taking off as he leaves.

The temple of Eros is built that same as all other small temples of love — six pillars around a domed building. There are two rooms inside, one with the statue of the god and the place to put offerings and make prayers, and another for priests and priestesses to meditate and do their duties throughout the day. The only difference is in the statues, and the decorations.

Yuuri enters nervously, and just takes a moment to wipe his glasses. When he puts them back on though, a priestess has floated over to him, her hood hiding most of her features. Only her lips are visible as she speaks. “I know of you,” she says, and Yuuri balks. “White lilies.”

“I- what?” Yuuri asks, confused.

The priestess nods, and places her hands together. “Eros has told us of you, Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri gapes. “You will find the love that you seek if you go to the Vale, where the white lilies grow.”

The Vale? I must have misheard. “That’s sacred ground, though,” Yuuri protests.

“Go there if you want the love you seek,” is all she says before she drifts off.

He goes, in the end. The valley is an hour’s walk from the city, and the path is frequented by worshippers of the six gods of love, so the journey is safe. He goes the same day, departing after a quick meal in the afternoon so that he doesn’t let his anxiety talk him out of the idea.

Mari looks on approvingly when he says that he visited the temple of Eros, and that is at a priestess’ behest that he’s going. His parents are just as approvingly, and pack him a light meal to eat on the road and wish him safe travel. Phichit accompanies him to the city gates and wishes him luck.

The trip is easy, but entering the valley is not. Hundreds of people kneel near the divine pillars that separate the sacred ground from the rest of the world, and there are guards standing to makes sure that none try to enter. But the priestess had been clear in her instructions, and there is no place in this area other than the Vale that grows white lilies. He approaches the boundary cautiously.

A guard stops him, of course, a young man with a square jaw and the back of his head closely shaven. “None may enter.” Judging by the stripes that adorn his wrist-guards, he serves the god of Agape.

“A priestess of Eros sent me here,” Yuuri says. “I’m to go to the white lilies.”

“You are Yuuri Katsuki?” the guard asks, looking down at him.

“... Yes.”

The guard nods, and steps aside.

“Wait,” Yuuri touches the man’s bracer uncertainly. “How do you know me?”

The guard stares at him blankly. “I may serve Agape, but I have heard of you. All those that interact with Eros have.”

“What?”

“Go to the white lilies, Yuuri Katsuki.” The guard returns to his post, and says no more.

The inside of the Vale is silent, albeit for the cooing of doves and flap of butterfly wings brushing against plants. The sun seems to shine brighter, almost blindingly so, but Yuuri clutches the hem of his tunic before continuing on. He’s careful to tread lightly, for fear of crushing the plants that grow on the sacred ground, and there is no path that he could use to walk.

He finds the white lilies eventually. Whether it is a long period of time or a short period of time, he doesn’t know. They’re all in bloom, beautiful and fragrant, and Yuuri hesitates on the edge of the plants, as he is uncertain as to what next. But a dove coos, and he turns to the sound. It looks to be the same one that usually perches on his windowsill. “Hello,” he greets it softly.

The dove blinks at him before flapping up at his head, prompting him to step into the flowers as so to avoid getting hit. He turns around to scold it, or possibly ask what the fuck even though it wouldn’t respond, but it's gone.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” the being hovering there instead says. Yuuri steps back into the lilies, staring even as he reaches a hand to caress Yuuri’s jawline.

Brown wings fading into white at the bottom keep him in the air, and there is a black cloth obscuring his eyes, trailing off and mixing in with beautiful long strands of silver hair that skimmers in the sun. The being is mostly naked, a loincloth wrapped around his hips and cloth wrapped around his wrists. A bow rests in one hand, and a quiver on his back.

He’s beautiful.

“Eros?” Yuuri whispers, for the being is too beautiful to be anything but one of the deities of love that reside in the Vale. The bow and arrows give him away as well.

Eros nods, humming a tune as he traces Yuuri’s face with his fingers, a smile playing on his lips. He pauses when he touches Yuuri’s glasses, but continues on exploring Yuuri’s face. “You’ve finally came,” he says. “And please, call me Victor.”

Yuuri doesn’t know which statement to react to first. “You’ve been waiting for me?” he asks.

Eros’ face splits into a grin. “Of course I have!” he says, taking Yuuri’s hands in his. “I’ve been waiting for so very long for you, Yuuri! All people come to my temple at some point, but my servants have been waiting for you to step in to give you my message for years!”

“Eros, I-” Yuuri licks his lips, “What-?”

“Call me Victor,” he says.

Yuuri can’t wrap his head around the idea of referring to Eros as anything but his title, but he complies anyways. He clenches his hands, aware that their fingers are intertwined, but strangely not feeling like pulling away. It feels wrong to pull away. “What do you mean you’ve been waiting for me, Victor? I came here seeking love.”

Victor makes a happy sound in his throat. “And you found me!” he floats closer to Yuuri, “If only I could see you like this. You have the most beautiful blush. All your expressions are beautiful, but I love when you blush.” He breaks his grip on one hand to return to caressing Yuuri’s face.

“What?” Yuuri sounds as lost as he feels.

“You’re mine,” Victor says matter-of-factly. “That’s why you’re unlovable to humans. You’ve been marked mine a long time ago, so any that would dare love the one that I love have their hearts reversed.”

Have their hearts reversed. No wonder all those people he had felt chemistry with- Yuuri steps backwards, away from Victor. “What are you talking about?” he asks desperately. “You can’t possibly-” Yuuri came to find love in the Vale, yes, but he had never expected this.

To meet Eros, one of the forms of love.

To hear that the god loves him, and that’s why no one else has.

Victor scoffs, and tosses his hair over his shoulder. “I decided, a very long time ago,” he sings, grip tightening on Yuuri, “When children were throwing rocks at me as a dove, you were the one that chased them away. You have a beautiful heart, and I may be Eros, but I am lonely. I bring love to you mortals, but no mortal loved me.” Even with the blindfold on, Victor’s sadness is clear. “But you- I hope-�� he takes in a deep breath, “Will you love me, Yuuri Katsuki?” Victor brings Yuuri’s hand up as he says the words, spreading his fingers across his bare chest.

Yuuri has no idea where to begin.

“You want me to love you,” Yuuri says. Victor nods. “You want me to love you.”

“I want you.” Victor’s tone is clear and guileless. “I bring love to mortals, but lately it feels so stagnant. Uninspiring. But you make me feel differently. You remind me that love exists beyond my arrows, and I want you.” He holds Yuuri’s hand to his chest still.

“I don’t understand,” Yuuri says helplessly. “I just wanted to find an answer to why I’m unlovable, not... find out that a god loves me.” He frowns, “Why is your chest so...”

“I have no heart,” Victor says. “For you long ago stole it, when you danced at the festival of the loves and made a little flower crown for the dove on your windowsill.”

Something clicks. “The dove the whole time was you!?” Yuuri is horrified. The dove that usually stayed near his window had been there for many years. He had complained to it, changed in front of it, done so many very embarrassing things because he had thought it was just a bird.

Victor smiles again, his mouth somewhat heart-shaped in his cheer. “Surprise!”

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says, and he blacks out.

When Yuuri comes to, he’s staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, and someone is holding his hand.

He turns in bed, joints stiff from probably lying too long, and stills in shock at the man by his bedside. Victor is no longer mostly naked, wearing a fine tunic, and his hair is tied up neatly, one bang hanging over his left eye, the blindfold gone with his wings. He stirs, and impossibly blue eyes meet Yuuri’s brown, expression immediately morphing into cheer. “You’re awake!” he moves forward, and the next thing that Yuuri knows is that he’s being hugged.

“Victor?” he says the being’s name with all the confusion he feels at the moment. “What are you doing here?”

Victor withdraws, and Yuuri finds himself missing the contact almost immediately, which is- strange. But it had felt good, so.... his thoughts are so jumbled right now. “Agape came and yelled at me after you fainted,” Victor explains, running his thumb of Yuuri’s hands, staring at him with some unreadable intent. “He said I went about courting you wrong. Which is funny, because Agape does unconditional love, so what does he know about courting- but anyway, you fainted. I was so worried!”

“I see,” is all Yuuri can really say.

Victor looks away. “I went and asked the one that oversees us, and asked him if I may... have permission, to spend time as a human, when I am not doing my duties.” Well, that explains the lack of wings and the blindfold. “May I court you properly, Yuuri? I’ve donned human form to do so.”

And oh, Yuuri’s breath leaves his lungs. Part of him is frozen is disbelief, but another part leaps in elation. “I still don’t understand, Victor,” he says carefully, “Why do you want to court me?”

Victor tilts his head. “An easier question would be why wouldn’t I want to court you? There’s nothing about you to not love. Even those that made you think that you were unlovable — that was my fault, because I had set my eyes on you for such a long time that those that would try to take you away...” he sighs, but his gaze returns to Yuuri. “At the moment, your parents believe that I am a friendly traveller who found you on the road after you fainted for an unknown reason, and brought you back. They would not mind, I think. They seemed happy that I expressed interest in you.”

“They want me to be happy,” Yuuri says.

“Ah.” Victor reaches across Yuuri, and tugs his other hand, clasping it tightly. “Will you let me try to make you happy, Yuuri? I want this. I want to.”

Looking at Victor’s beseeching expression, his sky-blue eyes and the purse of his lips, Yuuri feels for a moment — feels a wonder at what if I said yes? — but a worry weighs on the tip of his tongue. “I’m human, you know. I’ll die, and you’ll be left alone. What then?”

“I am a god,” Victor counters, “I will wait for you to be reborn, and we’ll fall in love all over again.”

Yuuri wants love and Victor wants to give him that love. They want the same thing in the end, to share love together and not feel as if they’re all alone — Yuuri in Victor’s inadvertent dismissal of all his suitors, Victor in that being a deity that brings love, he has no one to make himself feel love. And while Victor’s solution isn’t perfect, doesn’t offer a permanent solution, Yuuri looks in his heart and feels contentment. Like he’s finally settled into his feelings.

“Court me then, Victor,” Yuuri says, “We’ll be happy together, and when I’m reborn, I’m sure that I’ll be happy to fall in love with you all over again.”

Victor beams, his lips forming a heart, before he shifts to- kiss Yuuri on the mouth. It’s quick, just the barest of pressure that Yuuri registers, Victor drawing back just as quickly as he had moved forward. “Was that okay?” he asks breathlessly. “Or am I moving too fast for human standards?”

Yuuri touches his lips self-consciously, somewhat in a daze. It takes a few moments before his looks up at Victor again. “I think I might need another one to make a decision,” he says with the slightest hint of a smirk.

And oh, Victor had thought he already loved everything about Yuuri that was there to love but- he may have just fallen in love a little bit more just now.

(It takes many more kisses before Yuuri reaches a decision, and it’s a resounding conclusion that kissing Victor is very okay.)

“I’m sorry,” the apology spills from Victor’s mouth suddenly, hours later after dinner and Yuuri introducing him to his parents as a potential lover. “It’s my fault that you felt unloved.”

Yuuri is no fool. “You aren’t at all, are you?” he doesn’t look at Victor as he says it, merely holding up their hands to fit them together. “You’re happy that there’s no competition for you.” They’re sitting on his bed together, Yuuri’s head tucked under Victor’s chin, Victor’s form curled around him. A strange acceptance had settled in Yuuri’s chest ever since Victor’s admittance in the lilies. There is little one can do when the gods have become set and their ways, and while the sting of the rejections hurt- he has an answer now, at least. And an apology, even if it isn’t entirely genuine.

“I’m sorry that I made you feel unloved, then,” Victor amends, bowing his head to lean on Yuuri’s shoulder, his silver hair falling over both of them. “I never wished for you to feel that way.”

Yuuri hesitates for just the briefest second before reach up to pat Victor’s head. “Thank you for apologizing, at least. Your honesty... means something.”

They sit in silence like that for a little while, Victor’s arms wrapped around Yuuri’s waist as he threads fingers through Victor’s hair. It is only after the sun sets that Victor speaks again. “Eros is a love associated with doing crazy acts, you humans say,” he says, sitting up so that his breath ghosts over Yuuri’s right ear. He smiles at the way Yuuri shudders in his embrace. “It must be true, as I’ve gone to the point of donning a human skin to court you.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just shoot me?” Yuuri asks. He couldn’t help but be curious, even if it was an unpleasant thought. At the moment, he doesn’t love Victor. There is an attraction, yes, for how could one not be attracted to Victor, whose appearance is exactly what one would think a god in human guise would look. Being with Victor so far is... comfortable.

So while Yuuri doesn’t love Victor yet, he’s willing to fall in love with him.

“The arrows don’t work when it pertains to the gods,” Victor says. “And besides, I don’t...” He shifts restlessly, his grip on Yuuri tightening for a moment. “I want you to love me for me, not because I used my powers.” He laughs, a laugh that is a pale imitation of true laughter because of the sadness that weighs it down. “It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? The one who watches over us thought so too. He said that my nature is too fleeting for this to last.”

“It sounds like something Eros would do,” Yuuri replies. He turns to Victor, reaches up to touch Victor’s chin. “But it’s possible for the spark of eros to lead the way to pragma, isn’t it?”

It’s hard to not look away from Victor after that, for his eyes are so bright with hope that it almost hurts to see. “Yes,” he says, “Let us turn eros to pragma. I’m sure our relationship will have plenty of eros though, because I am me, but- it sounds wonderful. Yes.”

Excited, “Yes”s are all that follow as Victor pulls Yuuri down to the mattress, to press kisses into his face and neck in sheer exuberance.

I should like to fall in love with you, Yuuri thinks as he returns each and every one.

He thinks he is falling in love a little already.

I may be Eros, but let us have pragma’s long-lasting love together, Victor wishes, revelling in all of Yuuri’s warmth.

He fell a long time ago, for this mortal, but it is glorious to continue falling more and more every day.

Notes:

Not a perfect love story, but the start to a wonderful one.

For the record, Sara and Michele are the gods of Storge, Yurio is Agape, and Mila is Philautia (self-love)

#yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #yuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuuri #fanfiction #minific #technically this is too long for a minific oops

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