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marinaaniseed · 4 years

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Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

#Dark 'n' Stormy #endgame thor #thor #Thor Odinson #THOR SON OF ODIN #thor smut #thicc thor #fat thor #squishy Thor #Soft Thor #chubby thor #chonkythor #reader insert #Female reader #x reader #avengers x reader #reader x thor #female reader x thor #The Avengers

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luxlightly · 4 years

Text

Ok I was originally not going to post this because it's A Lot of headcanon for an improv video game comedy series and just send it to one person but they never responded and I'm attention starved. So here's my huge, Bubby centric, monster of a headcanon that ties the whole series together. Mostly under a cut because it's A Lot. (written in one sitting on my phone so excuse the multiple changes in tense and typos)

So the big sort of thing is that Bubby caused the resonance cascade. He sabotaged the computers. He just meant for it to be a distraction to escape black mesa but Benry's involvement and the chaotic element of the Player Character interacting with him caused everything to go to hell fast. Also Benry and Bubby are sort of brothers.

Going backwards to explain:

So some of this really stretches the canon because it's mixing a "it's a real world" au and "it's still a video game" au kind of ideas.

Basically the world of the video game exists sort of as a parallel dimension within the game's code. The G-man exists kind of outside of the rules, able to control more or less the code or console. He's kind of the Mastermind behind black Mesa as a whole who exists outside the game's code to a sort of in between layer (in those time stop moments) where he can only be seen by those who are also in some way connected to the Real World through either direct connection to the Player or sufficient connection to the console code. His reach is in ways limited because of this and he cannot easily interact with the game world characters. He uses Black Mesa as a way to use the science of their word to try to create new things from the code or otherwise more precisely control it.

Which is where Bubby comes in. Basically, black Mesa took the basic code for the security officer Barney and tried to create new copies with connections to the code they could use. However it was pretty much a complete failure. Only two of the attempts even survived to maturity with any kind of personally intact, but they weren't right. Trying to connect them with the code like that broke them in certain ways. On creation, the scientists asked them their names to try to get them to access their own files to find the name, but neither could, it came out garbled. So instead they went by the names they more or less gave themselves.

Bubby is able to connect to the console commands specifically to set objects and characters on fire(among some others in small amounts that are far less well controlled), but he can't understand that's what it is. It's just psychokinesis to him. And he's not good at controlling it, especially when he was younger. He's also scrawny, has several phobias, and is overall much more suited to academic pursuits than being any kind of soldier for them. It also causes him to glitch at times('here i come, Gordon! Here I come, Gordon! Here I come, Gordon!). His code is more or less like a badly implemented mod that tried to unlock god admin mode but failed and now doesn't quite fit back in with the original code right.

They kept him as a scientist at black Mesa mostly to keep him under surveillance. He knows this. He doesn't know anything about the code or anything, but he knows he was made there etc etc. He spent most of his time just keeping the other scientists afraid of him and his spontaneous combustion and studying as much as he could. He'd never been outside. He wasn't allowed to leave. He'd never really cared to.

Until (and this was largely inspired by the '30 something Coomer and Bubby when Coomer first joined black Mesa by @inkwellstars) a new scientist was hired. Bubby largely ignored him except for trying to scare him away from any annoying attempts and friendship with some showy (if poorly controlled) pyrotechnics. But Coomer was just fascinated and made a terrible pun about his new coworker being 'a real hothead'. Which infuriated Bubby into taking an interest in him. Coomer remained the only person who was unfazed enough by the fire and the shark teeth to not just still hang around, but even tease him, no matter how hard Bubby tried to intimidate him out of it. Eventually, Bubby realized it was the last thing he actually wanted. That this man was the first person who he'd ever had treat him… Like a human being. And for the first time, he considers a world outside black Mesa. And it's somewhere he wants to go. He wants to follow this man when he walks out the sliding lab doors back to a world he'd never been a part of.

Not that he's pining or anything!! Coomer was a married man, after all!(no way no sir not that).

Bubby has a lot of unmanaged anger because he just catches on fire if he gets too frustrated. After a discussion of Coomer's past boxing ambitions, they set up the underground boxing league mostly just as the two of them, letting Bubby actually let off some steam in a metaphorical instead of literal way. He gets his ass handed to him every time but it's nice to not be treated like either the boss' fragile, expensive toy or a living Molotov cocktail. Bubby learns a bit of fighting along the way,to boot. He gets much better at controlling his fire. Coomer picks him up in a "lift off the ground and spin around" bear hug when he manages to set something aflame without setting any part of himself alight first. Bubby somehow feels that was more important to him than the accomplishment itself. Eventually word gets out about the quite literal underground rings they've started up and it becomes a whole league and Bubby takes a more spectator role, contented to play coach to Coomer.

However, Coomer's impressive strength and fortitude aren't only noticed by an admiring(and sightly love struck) Bubby. Black Mesa decides to try, instead of using code to try to create a new entities with connection to the code, to use an existing character, enhance them, and then create copies of them. Coomer became that existing character.

At first it seemed to work perfectly. They had a character able to alter the world at their will(sending Gordon back and forth through time/creating portals), access a super human, nearly godlike state of power(super player feature) and alter the code in a multitude of other ways. They implemented a system of authorization to stop him from accessing these powers without permission from a handler. These PlayCoins could only be gained and used by someone directly connected to the console code or real world. Someone connected to that liminal space between code and reality the g-man exists in. However, trying to create duplicates didn't create a new, equally powerful entity, it just split the power of the original. From there, Coomer's spirit was still too powerful to be completely controlled, so they split him into dozens of clones, dividing up that power until he was within a range they could control. The effect on his psyche was devastating, however. It trapped him into the code of 'tutorial npc' but his response triggers got completely broken so he responds to the wrong things. Before the scripted events of the game in which those triggers are, it didn't affect his day to day behavior, but it did leave him with an inescapable partial awareness of the game itself. As split as he is, he can't understand or remember anything about what it means, it's just a constant disconnect between him and the game's reality. It causes his marriage to fall apart.

Bubby doesn't know about what happened to Coomer. A lot of his own memories are controlled and tampered with as well. But he feels as though his getting close to Coomer caused his suffering and they end up drifting apart for a long time and Bubby's longing to see the world outside his laboratory home fades alongside their once strong bond.

Until. The other failed test tube character made from the mangled and stripped code of the security officer Barney who was torn out of the code to be twisted to the g man's whims comes to Bubby with an idea. The man who is not a man. Who has no parents and named himself : Benry.

Benry seemed like he should have been perfect. He kept the most physical resemblance to the original Barney, he seemed physically stable. As far as anyone could tell, he was completely connected to the console code. He should be able to control whatever he wanted, but besides the sweet voice and an unnatural fortitude, he seemed to have no remarkable qualities. Also he was all but totally incoherent. Memory, temporal and spacial awareness,and speech function were severely impaired. He often forgot where and when he was('... What happened to your arm?'), got his own memories confused with the memories of the now non-existent Barney ('you and me we used to be friends do you remember i don't know what happened'). Along with an erratic and unpredictable personality. He was considered another of countless failures and given a menial security job, like with Bubby, mostly just to keep an eye on him. Benry and Bubby, despite being practically siblings, aren't close, but do trust each other insomuch as they know the other probably won't outright kill them.

But Benry was not as unremarkable as he seemed.

And the introduction of a new element would throw everything into chaos: The Player. And, by extension, The Game.

The Player, in this instance, refers to the assumed person who is playing the game in which the characters exist. They are a discrete, unseen, and unmentioned character, who is neither Wayne nor Gordon Freeman. Wayne is the actor playing both Gordon and, in ways The Player, in the same way that Holly is playing the character of Coomer. Gordon is the AI character who exists within the game world. He believes he is in control of his actions and that what he experiences is real. He exists on the same layer of fiction as the other AI such as the character of Coomer. The Player is whomever, within the fiction of the series, is physically playing The Game.

The Game is the actual scripted, programmed events that were programmed in the "real world" (the Player's real world in which they live and are playing the Game). It represents the events that happen from the time the Player begins the game and when they complete it. The Game represents the overlap between the reality in which the AI exist and The Player's world. Presumably a copy of the original game Half Life.

As the events of The Game draw nearer, it makes every charterer with a connection to the code antsy. Bubby starts thinking, for the first time in years, about the world outside black Mesa's walls. Thought becomes longing. Longing becomes desperation. A need to escape from here by any means necessary.

Benry approaches him with an idea. They'll sabotage the big test that Dr.Freeman is running. The whole thing will likely explode, causing enough destruction and distraction for them to slip away in the chaos (with Coomer in tow if Bubby could help it). Freeman would almost certainly die but that was a necessary casualty for their freedom. Bubby never liked him anyway. There was just something...off about him. Like a weird double vision he couldn't shake around the man. Like something was both there that shouldn't be and missing that should be. Bubby avoided him. He didn't think he'd ever had a single conversation with him. He agrees.

Benry stops Gordon at the entrance and tries to stall him as long as possible with bogus requests to give Bubby as much time to sabotage the test as possible (which he does by crawling inside the computers, claiming he's fixing a problem).

However,Gordon is not connected to the console code, but directly to the real world through being controlled by The Player. As the Player triggers the scripted events of The Game, the holes and mangled code the g man and black Mesa have been tampering with start going haywire. Especially as Benry interacts with him directly. His latent connection to the console code starts activating, giving him ability to control himself and the game more and more, but his memory issues and temporal confusion makes him unable to determine what is and isn't real so his code powers start just making it real, beginning to actively break the Game from within. The bogus excuse about a passport (he forgot the word for ID and had to roll with the lie) became a reality and a powerful one. He starts teleporting and clipping through the walls.

Bubby starts the test, unaware of the change. He played along with the passport thing to not blow Benry's story. But by the time he reaches the chamber, it's already a real thing everyone else there had and should have.

When the cascade starts, though, Bubby is caught off guard. It was just supposed to explode. It wasn't supposed to bridge dimensions and cause this rift. He assumes Gordon did something to cause it to fail so catastrophically. He phases through the window of the observation room (something he didn't even know he could do and likely didn't even realize he was doing and forgot afterwards since he was immediately knocked out) but it's too late to stop it.

Then the events of the Game are in full swing and all the broken code of every character crumbles and results in the "look Gordon! Ropes!" Glitched tutorial Coomer, a Bubby whose setting himself on fire on accident for the first time in years, and a Benry who transcends beyond the confines of his code into an extradimemsional Chimera of sorts who can pass in and out of the liminal G space, become and summon skeleton minions who also can be or not be in that space, able to be seen by anyone or just by someone able to perceive that plane of existence, such as Gordon.

As Coomer destroys his clones, he gets pieces of his power and fragments of memory back. Enough to know that they are clones and that killing them returns his powers to him. Bubby and he quickly rekindle their bond, with the memory tapering being undone.

Bubby is still desperate to leave, trying to get Gordon to go faster by guilting him and saying he wants to go home (though black Mesa is his actual home). However everything just seems to get more and more drawn out and they can never really make progress.

Benry convinces Bubby that Gordon is the reason that they can't leave. Bubby can sense that something is different about Gordon so he believes it. Benry may or may not believe it himself. He may have realized that leading the Player to the end would only end the Game and tried to subvert that path. Or the programmed event of Gordon's ambush might have just pushed them both to it. Impossible to say.

In any case, Bubby is quickly also detained and put back in his tube.

With enough clones killed, and having accidentally jumped out of the play box and seen that there's nothing physically beyond black Mesa, Coomer becomes aware of and connected to the console code and aware of the "real world". He tries to use Gordon's connection to the Player to get to the real world, though at this point he can only understand it as the world of Gordon's "dreams". When Tommy kills all of the clones, then knocks out Coomer, it causes a full reset and Coomer becomes his full,unshattered self again. He still is limited by his need for authorization through PlayCoins, but he's much more coherent and quickly becomes completely aware of his situation within the Game and starts talking directly to the Player through Gordon at times.

The rest is history.

As for some other non directly related things: Tommy is g man's attempt at a more biological connection between the code and the game universe. Tommy is his son and has all the abilities of a g-man but is largely unable to use them and unaware of them due to his young age (comparatively to the immortal g man, 36 is still a child) and his innocence. He is also completely integrated with the game universe with no glitches from the union. Tommy is not aware he's the Gman's son. He thinks it's just some guy who bought him Vin Diesel and the minions. Tommy tends to use his powers entirely accidentally when he does, with the exception of creating Sunkist. In doing so he also surpassed his father's ultimate limit: creating a completely new element to the game without having to gut other code. He created the perfect dog out of completely new content he willed into existence. Unfortunately for G-Man, Tommy is far too pure and goodhearted to be used to any nefarious ends.

#hlvrai #bubby #coomer #boomer #benry #gordon hlvrai #tommy coolatta

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helpinghanikan · 4 years

Text

More then a Tool

Charles Xavier x (Daughter) Reader

Sum: There will always be that something which breaks the camel’s back. Sometimes, this is more obvious then others.

an: This was a request for A Charles Xavier with a child reader. I tried to keep with the request but my finger slipped and now the reader is mutated, an empath and it’s full of angst. I am not sorry.

Your childhood memory could be whittled down to a series of chairs. Plastic chairs that stick to your bare legs in the summer. Metal seats that scrape and drag across the tile. Sometimes you’d get nice, soft chairs, or a couch to hang out on. Those typically turned into naps.

It was during one of these memories in a spinning chair that you started to feel. The secretary you’ve been plopped next took one glance and went back to her computer. Her annoyance was coming off from her like a horrible smell. Every click on the keyboard was like a gunshot right to your temple. Just made worse by watching her; click click click she’s banging into your head. Something had to be said…

“There’s magazines by the couch, why don’t you go read them?” She suddenly orders with a quick spin of her chair.

The verbal slap took you from the chair and onto the couch. Your feet hit the ground maybe twice, practically jumping onto the couch. This sending another hit of annoyance right to your head; eyes closing against it until the secretary looked away.

Those magazines did little to help with all the new feelings. Being further away from her helped with annoyance but now frustration was rearing its ugly head. Frustration and a lie bursting through your system with colors that’d make a sunset jealous. No amount of staring at articles and pictures of people way richer than you could get rid the emotions.

With both hands on either side of your head it was only a matter of seconds before Mama Moira appears kneeling in front of you. Snapping at the secretary to reschedule everything and that they are not done just yet.

“I’m sorry,” you had muttered in the car.

“It’s okay, they weren’t going to give me anything. Lawsuit threats will do that.” She says, a gentle hand rubbing your back.

“They’re threatening you?” You ask.

“It’s more like an,” she pauses to think how to best explain. Her hand pausing in it’s movements as she things. “it’s an aggressive suggestion. Nothing to worry about, Sweetie.”

“I think they were lying, though.” This idea was coming out of your mouth before you stop it. The soft hand of comfort has that power. “They’re lying about law suiting you.”

“You try calling that bluff with a lawyer next to you,” She says, pulling her hand away. “Oh, Sweetie, could you hear through the door? I’m so sorry.”

“No, I mean-I couldn’t hear. I just know they’re lying, mom.”

“How could know that?”

“I just do, okay.”

Moira was one of those rare mothers who wasn’t going to dig and dig for info you couldn’t give. Instead she focused on the road ahead of her, both physically and metaphorically. Mentally listing off all the people she could pay or guilt trip into watching you.

Whether you looked like her or not Moira was your mother, you just happened to be the question baby. Someone she loved more than anything but also an ironic reminder of her memory loss. In the interest of saving time she didn’t dwell on it too long, now just living with the new nickname of ‘Mama Moira.’

Moira never outright said what happened after following your advice. Only that your babysitter lasted for a single night, then you were back in a chair. This time sitting in the room just a few feet behind your mother. Staring at magazines while trying to feel something you didn’t really understand.

0-0-0

The closest Charles got to looking through a hospital window at his child was cerebro. The first was just to check up: How were you doing? Healthy? Happy? Back then you were just a baby staring at space. Sometimes into Moira’s face who would either coo or talk to you like a colleague. Asking for a baby’s opinion on whether there were any typos in her report.

He never really learned whether she did fix those typos. Over the years you became just another one of his children. A blue bundle of stars in cerebro that grew every time he searched for the others. Teachers and students came and became part of the school as your chairs were moved inside the meetings.

Once or twice he sat in on those meetings with you. Setting just on the edge of your mind without intruding on any secrets. Just enough to taste your empathy, and see your legs swinging while on sitting on those chairs. The unexpected consequence of his check ins came from the emotions connected to his brain.

A warmer, cool blue of pride that’s felt in your head without seeing who it was coming from. Typically, these stupid emotions came off strongest from the person closest to you. The closest was a woman whispering into another woman’s ear. She was like you, someone sitting just behind the action. Briefly mentioned as the translator, she wrote and spoke quietly.

Focusing solely on her and the blue faded in exchange for a mix of orange from fear and green from focus. Green was so overbearing only the slightest hint of anything else showed, and only when she was listening and writing. No hint of blue to be found.

Focusing on the others and the color could be found there sometimes. But those gave off a darker color blue then the cooler one. These were cocky, proud of themselves. They’d bleed into red when Mama Moira a certain thing, and then into fear. Sometimes into a silver lie, and those were the ones you had to remember. The rest you just had to try your best to not completely forget.

The cool blue color was easy to forget about over the years. It was just one of a rainbow of colors you were forced to learn about through your short life. From chair to chair they ranged and changed; little books filled with charts that became meaningless as more colors were added.

More chairs, more colors. One even being a helicopter, where you were supposed to be ease dropping on the emotions of your guide. Instead you were distracted by the many controls and buttons that somehow made sense to the woman behind the controls.

Although that woman was beaming a blue pride (probably from having a curious child audience) the cool blue wasn’t seen anywhere. By that point you had all but forgot about it. The curiosity only lasted as long as that first meeting had.

It was completely opposite on Charles’s end. It’s harder to forget someone when you actually know who they are. He was a father by nature; a figure to every student who has ever come into the school. They were just as much his children as you were. Seeing a bit of you, of your potential, in every one of them.

That bit hope lasted through finally being able to use his status to teach. It lasted through the adjustment to life in the chair and the care of students. It stretched into the draft when the first of the teachers began to meekly come into his office with sincere apologies. Men being called in and woman called home to help with the absents. He saw you in them too, less happily this time.

Hope began to starve after they were gone. When somewhere in the background Hank McCoy fiddles with a vial but doesn’t offer it just yet. When the school’s doors closed, and cerebro’s opened. Not searching for the children he has already lost, but the one he never forgot.

0-0-0

It’s hard to say what exactly broke the camel’s back. You’ve gotten used to keeping your sensitivity a secret. Mama Moira was open about there being others like you out there. She was open that they could be dangerous, and that you just weren’t ready yet.

Actually, it’s not that hard to find the trigger. Someone left out the wrong file and there it was: Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. Just a name and a few mentions of ‘mutant’ underlined. The poor, dumb, assistant who left it out ripping it from your hands before anything else could be read. Even with that little amount of information things started to bend.

They completely broke when Mama Moira went away. A mission where her little lie detector would be in too much danger. Instead letting one of the younger researchers play babysitter. A nice woman who saw nothing wrong with answering the questions of the curious office child. Not noticing that among the questions of what books you’re allowed there was another questions about files.

Maybe with the files you should have grabbed something about helicopters.

That nice pilot woman had become one of your favorite sitters. Letting you sit next to her during rides, showing the pedals and how to work the joystick.

The lift off was the hard part. This was the mantra working through your head over and over while trying to remember the steps. Hold the joystick, play with the peddles. Oh, snap, was it actually lifting off the ground?

Riding a helicopters as it leaves the ground is one thing. Leaving the ground, knowing that whether you fly, or crash was all up to you, was an entirely different feeling. One that turned your mantra to ‘oh no, oh no, oh no’.

“Lower the throttle, get back on the ground,” orange yellow of fear suddenly slapped the sense from you. It was coming from a voice that certainly wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “It’s okay, I’m a friend. Just go slow.”

Although he is in your peripheral vision it’s impressive that you didn’t whip around to look. Your own shock and his calmed voice making landing the only thing important. Although his voice is right next to your ear there is no change in the air at his presence. Half expecting a guiding hand to be placed on your shoulder while trying to land.

The helicopter is heavy when landing. Worse then when you lifted off the ground. An equally heavy thunk announced you’re landing safely. As safely as can be given the situation.

“Why would you try this?” The man asks.

Completely turning in the pilot’s chair you can finally look at the man. White male, average height. Long brown hair and serious scruff this side of a beard. Everything about him can be described down into a file. A file that Mama Moira has more then once left out in kid’s reach.

“Are you Professor Charles Xavier?” You ask.

“You’re not answering my question.”

“And you’re not answering mine,”

He takes a second to swallow. “Yes, I’m Charles Xavier.”

“Professor Charles-?”

“Just-I’m just Charles Xavier.” He corrects before you’re able to finish. Yellow of annoyance is mixing with the orange of fear. More yellow then orange is coming out. “Why would you try something like this? Why are you putting yourself in danger?”

Being scolded like this was keeping you in, yet another, chair.

“I’m different. Like you, like the others kinda different. She says I can’t talk about it to anyone.” Charles did not need to be a mind reader to know you were referring to Moira. “I don’t belong here; I belong with you guys.”

“Why a helicopter? Why not a car?” He asks.

“I don’t know how to drive.”

It’s like watching a computer boot up. He starts by pressing his lips together and then laughing softly. Putting his head down into his hands, his body shaking a little as he softly. If it weren’t for the blue you’ve only seen a handful of times you’d assume he was crying.

It takes a second to collect himself enough to speak again. “You can’t-you can’t fly a helicopter, either.” He sputters out, laughing back into his hands.

“It was flying, I was flying it.” You didn’t really know this man, not really. His emotions were familiar, and his face was in the file. But now he was just some guy laughing at you.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry,” He says. Coughing away one last laugh. “I just can’t understand your thought process about leaving.”

At some point you were going to have to explain yourself to somebody. In the event that you were caught before take off you’d stay quiet until Mama Moira came back. If you had been injured by hitting the wrong button and crashed the helicopter, you’d play the part of the poor curious child. Now, if the plan had completely succeeded and you made it to the mansion? That was a plan you had yet to make. Probably try and wing it.

Now that you were expected to explain everything in a manner of seconds everything was coming up blank. You have already the gist out, but where were the details?

“I’ve seen what you’ve already done for your mother; how you’ve helped her and this entire base. You don’t need to leave.” He says when you don’t respond.

“I don’t belong here,” It’s a reiteration of your most important point.

He’s two different shades of blue listening to you. The first blue of pride that was slapped back into the forefront of your memory and a second one. The second was pale, almost clear, a kind of sadness that you wouldn’t be able to understand enough to describe until you’re older. This blue hurt to pay too much attention to, tears peaking at your eyes from being too close. It’s better to stay by the first blue.

This color was a representation of an A plus report card brought home after nights at the kitchen table. It was what made the slight curve in his mouth nearing towards a smile. It reflected back onto you, bringing a smile that Charles saw and made his own expression drop.

“You don’t belong at the school, either. There’s no one there, it’s closed.” He confesses.

“What?” You asked.

“Everything is gone. There’s no one in the mansion anymore, it’s abandoned. Everyone has left.” He says this as the pale blue of sadness takes over the pride.

Your plan to land and become part of the mansion took an odd turn after hearing this. Instead thinking about what might have happened if your plan had completed. Landing at the mansion just to find no one there. It would have been heartbreaking to find the mansion without anyone there. How long would you have stayed before giving up?

When you don’t say anything he walks forward, talking calmly. “Your mother is a good woman. The best thing for you is to stay here. There is nothing for you with me.”

“Why are you here then?” You say this as a demand instead of a plea. Standing up to stare him in the eyes.

The pale blue has officially overtaken the pride. Tears on both your eyes are enough to end the conversation. The man who has suddenly appeared behind you disappears just as quickly. Leaving you alone as the base finally notices that a children just tried to steal a helicopter.

#reader insert #Dad!Charles Xavier #Charles Xavier #daughter reader #mutant reader #requested #empath reader #How do you write children?#What is a child?#Accidental angst

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alchemist-shizun · 5 years

Text

Thinking of you keeps me awake

Read on Ao3!

Word count: 1,407

Pairing: Logicality

Warnings: There's surgery mention and a mention of an incident in a playground, nothing specific or graphic.

Summary: Logan has been testing out the new advanced technology that had just been created for surgery. Patton, a doctor at the same hospital, finds the machine one night and starts talking to it daily. Logan finds it out in the weirdest way, and crushing ensues.

A/N: Hi name's Ellie and I find inspiration in TV advertisings. Okay this was supposed to be a drabble but I can't physically write less than a thousand words. (pardon me I can't put the read more on mobile.) This is also the first fic I post here so I'll just let you read in peace while I will disappear in fear. (Look I rhymed) Feel free to point out any typo or mistake, English isn't my first language and I'm always one for learning! Thank you so much and without any further ado, enjoy your reading.

✾

Logan finally found relief in the comfortable chair in front of his desk. It had been a little over a month since they started using advanced technology at work, which permitted Logan to attend meetings and to his job at the same time.

They didn't really take into account that being a surgeon wasn't exactly a piece of cake and doubling his work-related stress didn't help at all.

But Logan had never minded pushing himself to the limit in order to save lives or learn something new. (A bad habit that he had been dragging along ever since youth.)

The "machine of the future", as they liked to call it, was this robotic device that could be controlled wireless from a long distance. All Logan had to do was turn his phone on and a projector would show him what the robot was seeing and he could interact with the projection.

For instance, there had been cases in which he was required both at an updating course on new discoveries and also at the operating room to operate on one of his patients.

With this new object, he could help his team while traveling, as soon as he found a quiet place.

Quite the jewel, wasn't it?

That was the reason a hidden camera was implemented in the machine, it functioned both while in use and while seemingly asleep. If anything touched it, it would send a notification to the database Logan had access to on his laptop.

He was used to check on it daily, of course. Especially at 2 a.m., when he was definitely not supposed to be asleep. Now, he wasn't messing with his circadian system, just touching it up a little to see-

« A notification? »

His heart started pounding as panic drove its way through his chest; his mind, though, tried to find all the possible positive outcomes.

It could have been just an incident, right? Someone moved it or touched it by accident. There was nothing to be worried about, or else it would have automatically sent a call to the police.

Yes, it had a complicated security system, but it was needed, considering it was the only device existing at the time.

Logan scrolled through his database and found the videotapes section. He checked on the least recent video; they got deleted by the system monthly, so he was used to only check on them once a month unless an issue like that occurred.

He went through the frame previews and stopped when he saw a figure at the back of the room. The video started playing.

Logan could only watch as the figure became a more distinct man with wavy hair who paced around the room.

There was something familiar about him, but maybe it was just the glasses he was wearing that oddly reminded him of his own pair.

The mysterious man (actually, he was probably a doctor given his white coat) turned to the robot's direction and gasped at its sight before approaching it.

It was something, to see that scene almost as if it had been playing right in front of his eyes.

But Logan wasn't a robot.

« Oh my, what do we have here? » the man spoke in the most sugary voice Logan had ever heard. He wondered how soothing he was with distressed patients.

« This is so cool! » he paced around the object, then stopped back at its front.

« Is someone there? I'm Patton! »

Oh- That's what it was. He had worked with Patton, once or twice, but he had been on his team for a fairly short time. Wasn't he the new one around?

« Cat got your tongue? » his chuckle was so soft he could have made the maddest beast grow gentle. « Oops! You don't have one. »

Logan snorted and shook his head, was it really just this guy goofing around until the end of the tape?

He made to close the video and move onto the next ones, when Patton looked up again.

« Oh! Uhm ... whoever's behind this- because I really don't know, none bothered to answer me when I asked. » this time his snicker was embarrassed, he almost felt bad for him.

« I don't know why they think I'm dumb. I mean I got a doctorate, you can't exactly make your way through that by playing dumb, right? » Patton looked exactly where the robot's camera was hidden. Logan felt his heart skip a beat and he couldn't pinpoint whether it was out of fear or something else.

« But here I am, venting to a soulless machine. Maybe they're right. » he scratched his neck and sighed.

Logan remembered suddenly how Patton's first period of time with them was filled with simple tasks and chores. He had always thought they were just using him and not letting him unleash his potential.

Until one of the oldest doctors had to retire and some space had been made for him too.

« Anyway, to whoever is doing the awesome job behind this, I hope you know you're amazing! » Patton flashed him a toothy grin, then waved, gathered the stuff he needed and left.

Logan went through the other tapes as quickly as possible, but couldn't help but stop and listen to whatever Patton had to say in every single one of them.

The sight of his bright smile was a cathartic experience and, essentially, all Patton really did was clean some spots in the room and give both the robot and Logan a pep talk.

He didn't realize how wide he was smiling thanks to all the "I'm proud of you"s, "Your work is amazing", "Look at how marvelous you are" or "You inspire me", not until he reached the last tape and his cheeks were soaring from all the stretching.

Logan passed his hands on his face, his clock barely counting down to 3:30 a.m.

He tried to shake off the giddy feeling he felt when Patton appeared on his screen once again.

Sometimes you just need constant but simple reminders.

« Patton! Did a real good job! » he entered the room dancing and humming in his tracks. « Hey, didn't see you there! »

He approached the camera skipping along the pavement, that was the happiest he had ever seen him in those videos.

He couldn't believe that happened that day and he had missed the opportunity to see his joy at less than a couple of paces away.

« I saw the family of your patient today. » Patton sounded as if he were reminiscing about the moment.

Logan digged in his earliest memories and remembered the serious conditions of his patient: they had been victim of a terrible accident at a local playground. A mere little kid.

They had to work on the child for hours before it was safe to assume they would survive.

« I wish you could have seen the relatives. Their reaction when I delivered the news just ... Made me realize why I really love this job. » he hesitated, letting the words sink in.

« You did that. » Patton looked right into the camera but this time Logan's chest didn't feel tight.

Instead, it filled with warmth. Pleased and content.

« It's all thanks to you. » his voice trailed off as his cerulean eyes wandered around a spot Logan couldn't see.

« Oh gee, let's get you cleaned up! »

Next thing he knew, Patton had cleared some blood from the robot's surface. So that was why it sent off the notification.

Logan was glad it turned out to be nothing serious.

Just a cute and bubbly doctor that managed to start stealing his heart away without anything more than a night and video tapes. Not even his beloved surgery was needed.

Wait, what was that thought just now?

Logan closed his laptop as soon as Patton walked out of the frame.

He felt like he could have seen him if he moved, he didn't want to ruin the peaceful atmosphere Patton brought.

Afterwards, he finally dedicated himself to the thought of getting some rest for the hopefully less stressful day ahead.

Even though Logan spent the first few seconds of his sleeping time mentally smacking himself for staying up late, which he didn't actually regret, he now knew who to go to during his next coffee break.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #ts patton #ts logan #logicality #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides logan #sanders sides patton #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #logicality fanfic #logicality fanfiction #logicality fic #tw surgery #tw accident #fanfiction #ts fic #purp's writings

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my-emotional-self · 5 years

Text

The Accident Chapter 31 (Final)

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, angst, drinking, fluff

Trigger Warnings: Attempted Suicide, thoughts of self harm

Summary: After yet another fight with your boyfriend Chris, you go for a drive and get into a terrible accident. Upon waking up in the hospital, you find both Sebastian and Chris sitting there. The only problem? You have no recent memories and you think you are still dating Sebastian.

A/N: Sorry if there are any typos during the last half of this chapter. My spell check decided to stop working!

The next month was a struggle and many times you were sure things would end between you and Chris permanently. After the talk between you and Chris at the hotel room in New York, you decided to let him in once again to help you.

You both flew back to Los Angeles the next day and got right back to work. Upping your appointments with your psychiatrist to twice a week, along with a seeing a counselor weekly. But those appointments didn’t stop the nightmares from happening.

It was a near nightly battle with your mind trying to get some half decent sleep; your screams waking up not only you and Chris, but Dodger as he fled from the room each night. Your voice was hoarse, throat soar from the screams.

You didn’t want to forget what happened with your mother, you just wanted to be able to sleep without being plagued with those memories each time you closed your eyes.

As much as he didn’t want to leave you for too long, he had no choice as it pertained to a business meeting for an upcoming film he had been dreaming about directing. You assured him time and time again that you would be fine for the day by yourself. It was a Saturday morning that he left, and wouldn’t be home until late afternoon or even early evening.

By 10 a.m that morning, you gave up on trying to get any sleep and instead went to sit on the couch in the living room. You were exhausted from all the therapy appointments and getting maybe two hours of sleep a night; it was draining on your mind and body. The medications they also gave you were making you feel somewhat of a zombie, but you knew it would take weeks to get the right doses for you and for you to start feeling yourself again.

Spending the day staring blankly at the television, not even bothering to pay attention to what was on the screen is what you had done. You felt numb and broken all over again; the memories invading your mind like a plague, never letting you forget. You just wanted a little piece of quiet; it was all you asked for but never received. Guilt rippled through you and you didn’t think you could handle any more.

You remembered how this had already happened to you; how you already overcame this struggle once in your lifetime. It never occurred to you how hard it could be to go through the same exact thing a second time. Your heart was heavy just thinking about it and it broke you. You didn’t want this. You just wanted it to end; to stop the misery.

Checking your phone, you saw there were missed texts from Chris.

3 P.M

Chris: Hey sweetheart, just checking in with you. I miss you.

4:30 P.M

Chris: I love you Erica

5:15 P.M

Chris: The meeting is taking longer than I thought. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I’ll call you as soon as I leave. I can pick up some dinner if you’d like. Let me know

More guilt seeped into your body and you were overcome with tears spilling from your cheek. Dodger sat by your feet, whimpering at your sadness. Chris didn’t deserve the mess that you had become. He deserved someone happy; someone he could share his joy with. Even though he said there was nothing you could do for him to leave you, you just didn’t think you were strong enough to go through this a second time.

You decided to give him a text, not wanting to worry him to the point where he would leave his meeting early and ruin such a great opportunity.

Erica: Just sitting here with Dodger and watching some tv. I’ll see you when you get home.

Grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cabinet, you went into the bedroom and pulled out a box of photos from a box hidden in the closet. It had been there since when you moved in with Chris; but had been forgotten until your memories found their way to you again.

Opening the bottle of vodka, you took a giant swig and planted your ass on the floor. Lifting the lid off the box, you began to sift through the photos; your heart clenching with each pass of your eyes over the glossy memories. Pictures of your mother and you; pictures of you and Sebastian during happier times; and pictures of you and Chris.

“Gaahhhh!” you screamed, throwing the box against the wall as you began to chug more of the vodka. One of the pictures landed face up, sitting just at your feet. It was a picture of you and your mother; the last picture that was ever taken of the two of you. You were spending the weekend with her; it was a mere few weeks before you found out you were pregnant. “WHY???” your anguish scream ripped through your throat as your tears cascaded down your face. Tears mixed with the alcohol began to blur your vision as you got up on shaky legs and made your way into the master bathroom.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you could see a younger version of your mother making everything hurt that much more. Turning around you went to the large tub and turned the water on; not even bother if it was hot or cold. Your cell phone began to ring and you saw it was Chris; indicating he must finally be done with his meeting. As your finger hovered over the green button to answer, you decided you couldn’t talk to him. Not like this.

Putting the phone down you opened the cabinet under the sink, finding what you were looking for. It was in a black sleek case. Chris had received it as a gift from Scott for Christmas. Opening it, you took out the straight razor that was meant for trimming up his beard; just like they did at the barbers back in the day.

Stopping the water, you grabbed your phone and the straight razor, setting it on the stool next to the tub. Taking a few more large chugs of vodka, you submerged yourself into the bath, fully clothed as water splashed onto the tiled floor. The water was slightly warm but your body felt chilled thinking about what was to come.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to call Sebastian before anything happened. Pulling up his name, you pressed send and began to hear the ringing. Without eating all day and the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, you could barely keep yourself upright in the tub; your body constantly sliding down further into the deep tub.

“Hey Erica,” Sebastian’s cheery voice greeted you, only making you cry harder. “Hey hey hey…what’s wrong sweetie?”

“I…can’t…do….this…anymore,” you wailed between labored breaths.

“Erica,” Sebastian called your name, but you could barely hear him through your consistent crying. “ERICA,” he yelled this time.

“It hurts…it hurts SO much Sebby.”

“Where’s Chris Erica? Tell me where he is?”

“At…at a meeting. Dunno when he will he be’re,” your words slurred heavily.

“Have you been drinking? Erica you know you can’t drink with the medications you are on. Where are you right now?” Sebastian’s voice was laced with worry.

“In tha tub. Hard to….,” your words cut off as your head slipped the water. As you emerged from the water you gasped for breath. Luckily your phone was waterproof.

“ERICA!!! ERICA!!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?,” you heard Seb yelling.

You coughed up water before replying. “I’m….i’m just ready for it ta end. End it all!”

“Margarita call police to Chris’ house and then call him,” Sebastian said to his girlfriend.

“Will you do me a favor Sebby?” your voice began to quiver at the thought of what was about to happen. “Will you-will you tell Chris I love him?” You ended the call, throwing your phone onto the floor as it shattered into pieces.

~~~

Out of nowhere, Chris felt a sense of dread wash over his body as he drove down the freeway, just wanting to get back to the house with you. His meeting went way too long and he hadn’t heard from you except for that one text. His phone began to ring and he saw Margarita’s name pop up. Confused, he answered it.

“Hello?”

“Chris where are you?” her voice was frantic.

“I’m on my way home. I’ll be there in about five minutes. Why? What’s going on?”

She took a ragged breath before answering. “Erica called Sebastian. Sounds like she’s drunk and she’s in the tub and she keeps saying she wants it all to end.”

Chris’ mind went into overdrive; his eyes growing wide as he stepped his foot harder on the gas.

“I called the police to get to your house before I called you. I don’t know if they will be there before you or not. Chris-it doesn’t sound good.” Margarita began to cry, not wanting to lose her best friend.

Fear seeped through Chris’ bones as he swerved in and out of the lanes, not caring how many traffic laws he was breaking. He needed to get to you before you did anything more reckless than you already had.

“I’m almost there Margie,” Chris responded.

“Oh god.”

“What? What happened?”

“She…she just told Sebastian to tell you that she loved you before the line went dead.”

~~~

Picking up the straight razor, you gripped it in your trembling hands. The water was becoming colder, your body shivering. You faintly heard a crashing sound downstairs, footsteps on the stairs as you placed the blade along your left wrist. Tears stung your eyes as you pressed the razor hard onto your skin and pulled down, right along the vein. Bright red blood immediately seeped from your delicate skin, dropping into the water as you continued to push down hard.

The door to the bathroom swung open. “ERICA NO!” Chris yelled. He was at your side in three quick strides, forcing the razor out of your hand.

“LET ME DO THIS!” you screamed, thrashing around the pink stained tub. Chris pulled you from the cold water and held a towel to your bleeding wrist. You began to struggle in his grip, wanting to die, to end this suffering life, but he wasn’t budging. “LET ME GO! JUST LET ME DIE!!”

“I can’t do that Erica,” Chris cried quietly as he held you close to him; your body trembling. Your lips began to turn blue; your breathing ragged. Chris looked down and saw that the towel was doing nothing to stop the bleeding from your wrist. “Don’t do this to me-please,” Chris pleaded; his own tears flowing from his eyes at the thought of losing you. “Stay with me Erica. Please stay with me baby. I can’t-I can’t lose you!”

“POLICE! WHERE ARE YOU AT?” Chris heard the police officers yell from downstairs.

“UPSTAIRS MASTER BATHROOM. HURRY!” came Chris’ plea of demand. “Just hold on baby. Hold on for me please.” Your body went limp in his arms as everything faded to black.

~~~

One Month Later

“Your heart stopped Erica. Do you think you’re ready to go back to everything?” Dr. Lee asked as she sat across from you in the large office.

Looking around the room, you took your time to reflect on the last four weeks you spent here. It was an inpatient mental health facility near Los Angeles. Being here, away from everything and with the help of staff and nurses at all times, you really came around with their help. Dr. Lee was right; your heart did stop the night you tried to take your life. And now that you look back on that night, you couldn’t believe you did that to Chris; to everybody who loved you.

During your stay at the facility, they managed to quickly get you on an appropriate dosing of medications that not only made you stop feeling like a zombie, but made you feel better all around. For the first time since you regained your memories, you were happy.

Giving Dr. Lee a smile, you nodded your head. “I’ve never been more ready.”

After your last session with Dr. Lee, you walked down the halls of the treatment facility for the last time and into your room. Standing there surprising you was Chris. He was holding a bouquet of flowers; a bright smile on his face.

“Congratulations beautiful,” he beamed. You ran to him, jumping into his open arms as you wrapped your legs around his thighs. Nuzzling your face into his neck, you reveled at his smell.

“I missed you,” you breathed into his neck before giving him a chaste kiss on his pulse point.

“I missed you too Erica. So much-you have no idea.

“I’m sorry I was stuck in here for your birthday,” you frowned at the thought.

“Hey now. My birthday means nothing to me if you aren’t happy alright?” You gave him a nod into his neck. “Are you ready to go home?”

Pulling away from him, you placed a tender kiss to his lips. Chris pulled you closer to his firm body with one arm, as his free hand threaded through your hair. “Let’s go home.”

The car ride back to the house was quiet, but not awkward. Chris held your hand the entire time as you let your head rest out of the window; missing the feeling of wind on your face.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this babe?” Chris asked as he squeezed your hand.

“Like I told Dr. Lee earlier, I’ve never been more ready Chris. My medications are adjusted and with all the extracurricular classes they let us choose from, I now have so many hobbies that I enjoy and it also helps me ease my mind and be at peace. I haven’t felt this good-this happy in months.”

Chris smiled at your words, picking up your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “By the way. Robert is throwing a big fourth of July bash. I was wondering if you would be up to going to that?” The 4th of July was still two weeks away, giving you plenty of time to adjust to life again. Giving him a smile, you nodded.

“The neighbors must be throwing a party,” you chuckled as you saw all the cars lined in the neighborhood.

Chris helped with your bags out of the car and held onto your hand tightly as you walked through the door from the garage. Dodger came running up to you, jumping onto your laugh.

“Dodger!!! Oh boy I missed you so much! Yes, who’s a good boy? Ooohhh,” you cooed as you let him slobber kisses all over your face.

“Ok bubba that’s enough. Off my girl,” Chris chuckled as he helped you back to your feet.

The two of you turned the corner of the kitchen and you were frozen in place at the sight in front of you.

“Welcome back Erica!” everyone cheered and clapped for you.

Standing in front of you was Sebastian and Margarita, along with Chris’ mom, Shana, Carly and Scott. Immediately you burst into tears at the sight of all your loved ones.

Everyone took their turns hugging you and you felt so much love and warmth spread through you. If you had any doubts before about being able to get through things, this moment took those doubts away.

Turns out Chris had been planning this since his birthday because he knew how sad you were that you couldn’t be with him for it. There was a strict rule about no visitors at the treatment facility if you were only doing a four week program. But you were at least still able to talk to him each and every day on the phone which made it a little better.

Lisa and Chris’ sister made quick work of bringing all the food out from their hiding place in the pantry. The food smelled amazing and your mouth was watering at finally being able to have a good home cooked meal again.

After dinner was eaten, everyone moved to the backyard and enjoyed the last few hours before the sun dipped below the horizon. It was without a doubt an absolute perfect day so far.

You saw Chris motion to his mother and she disappeared into the house. A curious expression was on your face as you talked to Margie, but you let it go.

A few minutes later, there were flutes of champagne being brought around. Graciously, you took one in your hand. The new medications they put you on wouldn’t do any damage if you drank on them; as long as you drank occasionally and not on a daily basis.

Taking a sip, you crinkled your nose as the bubbles tickled. Your brows furrowed as Chris took your glass and set it down on the small table next to you; along with his glass.

“Erica, do you remember the fight we had the day of your accident?” It wasn’t hard to remember your memories anymore as the scene flooded into your mind.

“For the hundredth time, I am NOT cheating on you Erica!” Chris roared, throwing his hands up in the air as his frustration and anger glowed on his face.

This is the same fight the two of you have been having all month and it was starting to take its toll on you. Each day, he spent less and less time with you and instead headed out with friends; and you had no idea where he was half the time. He was being secretive it felt like, distant and it worried you to no end.

You nodded your head at him as he grasped your hands with his large warm ones. “Erica, I didn’t intend for you to ever think I was cheating on you. I would never do that to you. I love you too damn much. You mean the absolute world to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips. Your body warmed at his sweet embrace, wondering what he was up to. “The reason why I was away so often was because I was planning something pretty special.” It was that moment that he got down on one knee, your mouth opening with a gasp. “Erica, since the moment you walked into my life I have felt complete. I hate being away from you, for any amount of time. You are my life now. Will you do the honor of marrying me?” He pulled out a small black velvet box from his pocket and opened it, showing off the most dazzling and beautiful ring you had ever seen.

Tears blurred your vision in the happiest of ways as you nodded your head. “YES! Of course I will!”

Chris graced you with the most perfect smile as he placed the ring on your ring finger; cheers erupted from all around you.

~~~

Two Weeks Later

You were on your way to Robert’s house for his big Fourth of July bash. Deciding to be festive, you wore a plain white t-shirt with a pair of denim shorts that had the American flag on the back pockets. You also wore a festive headband that had two spring coils with blue and red tinsel to show off for fireworks.

“Happy Birthday Steve Rogers,” you joked giving your fiancé a smile as he drove the car.

“Very cute,” he chuckled next to you.

Chris pulled up into the driveway, smirking at the fact that Robert had valet at the part. He reached for his phone and sent what looked like a quick text. You each made your way out of the car as the valet took over and gave Chris a number. He held your hand tightly as you two made your way to the backyard where the party was. You held up your left hand, admiring your engagement glistening in the bright sun. “I still can’t get over how pretty it is Chris,” you gushed.

“Only the best for my girl,” he responded as he leaned down to give you a kiss.

The two of you turned the corner of the expanse house only to yet again, freeze in your spot.

“CONGRATULATIONS!!!” came a chorus of cheers along with a large banner that said “Congrats Chris and Erica”. You were stunned as to what was going on.

Robert quickly made his way to you, pulling you into a bear hug. “Robert,” you chuckled as he set you down. “What-what is going on here?”

“I already had this party planned for the 4th, but when I heard of the engagement-I mean. Come on. Do you really think I wouldn’t have pulled something out for the Star Spangled Man with a Plan on his birthday when I heard he got engaged? Happy Birthday Cap. What are you now, 101?” Robert gave Chris a wink before they hugged it out. “And congrats by the way. It’s time someone put this man into place.” You blushed at his words but your smile was evident.

Robert placed his hand around your shoulders and moved you towards the crowd; you gripped Chris’ hand before you could lose him in the throng of people. Everybody was there, and you meant everybody. Jeremy Renner, Scartlet Johansson, Sebastian, Margie, Gwenyth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Anthony Mackie and even Tom Holland. Hell, the damn Russo brothers were even there. Looking around, there had to have been at least 100 people gathered around the expanse backyard.

“Robert,” you slightly growled but he only hugged you tighter.

“Hey. I don’t want to hear that from you.” That made you giggle. “I’m happy for you Erica. You’ve gone to hell and back-literally. You deserve to be happy and I know Chris makes you that way. I only ask to be made the godfather to your first born.”

“ROBERT!” you chuckled.

“Or your second born. Doesn’t matter,” he responded with a shrug.

You shook your head but then remembered you wanted to ask him something. You ran the idea by Chris and he couldn’t have been more on board. Walking through the crowd you spotted Sebastian and grabbed his hand, making him walk with you. Once you got to Robert, you faced the two of them.

“I need a favor to ask the both of you.” You looked between the two men in front of you; Chris standing next to you with his arm around your back, holding you close to him in encouragement. You tried to be strong but you couldn’t help the quivering of your chin. Taking a deep breath, you spoke. “I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle. And you both mean the absolute world to me. I was hoping the two of you would do the honors?”

They both had glossy eyes, trying to hold back their own tears as they both reached for you in a tight hug. You felt comforted and cherished in their arms.

“I would be honored,” Robert responded.

“I was hoping you would ask me that,” Sebastian replied.

After the three of you hugged it out and had your tearful moment, Chris placed his hand around your shoulders and you made your way into the festivities.

Robert pulled out all the stops. There was a large slip ‘n’ slide down the hill, a red, white and blue bouncy castle and the largest spread of catered barbeque you had ever witnessed in your life.

You and Chris got congratulations throughout the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening as you mingled with everyone. Scarlet pulled you aside for girl talk with Margie as they wanted details about the wedding. Naturally, you asked them to be your bridesmaids during the conversation. They both squealed in delight, going over ideas for you for the wedding. At least you would have a lot of help planning the wedding.

As dusk began to fall, Chris pulled you into his arms on a blanket on the ground. Your back was settled against his chest as he held you close to him; the two of you looking up to the sky as the fireworks show started.

Chris brushed your hair away from your ear and you felt his breath on your delicate skin, making you shiver under his touch. “I love you so much Erica,” he breathed into your ear. “I can’t wait until I get to call you my wife.”

~~~

One Year Later

After months of planning for the biggest day of your life, it was finally hear. You had a crew of people helping you get ready for your marriage with Chris and your heart was fluttering with excitement and nerves.

The wedding was taking place in Northern California at a winery. The moment you and Chris visited last fall to check out the venue, you fell in love with it just as much as he did. It wasn’t going to be that large of a wedding, only about 150 people total, which when you think of it, with Chris being a famous actor, it could have been much more. While you had no family here, you knew everyone that was going to be in attendance and they all opened their arms to you as part of the family.

After you hair and makeup were done, you got into your dress. Everyone filed out of the room, giving you a minute to yourself before you heard a knock on the door. Lisa popped her head in and stared at you in awe.

“You look so beautiful sweetheart,” she said as she removed a tear that slid down her cheek.

“Oh Lisa don’t cry!” you said with a smile as you went to hug her. She held you close to her, and just like in Chris’ arms, you felt warmth and love from her. She considered you a daughter the moment she met you; always telling you that you and Chris were destined to be together.

“I know that this must be a difficult time for you Erica. A big day like this and you don’t have the most important woman here with you right now.” As she spoke, you nodded your head, willing the tears to not ruin your makeup. “And I just wanted you to know that I love you just as much as I love my own children. You make my Chris so happy and I’m so blessed that you are going to be a part of this family forever.” You wrapped your arms around her, clinging for life as her words touched your heart. When she pulled away from you, she grabbed something from her purse. “I wanted to give you this so you could wear it. I had it made special for today.”

She placed a small white box in your palms and you carefully opened it. When you saw what it was, you gasped; Lisa immediately balling up tissues under your eyes to catch your tears.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whispered. It was a button about the size of a quarter, with your mother’s picture on it.

“I was thinking we could pin it to the inside of your dress, right next to your heart. That way she will be nice and close to you today.” Nodding your head, you held the tissues up to your eyes as she carefully pinned the button to the inside of your dress. You don’t know why, but you instantly felt better, like a weight lifted off your shoulder.

“They are ready,” Scarlet said from the doorway, standing with Margarita by her side. “Do you want me to bring in Robert and Sebastian?”

Lisa quickly helped to make sure your makeup wasn’t ruined and gave your arms a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, bring them in,” you spoke softly. You looked down at your dress, smiling. The dress itself was extremely simple. It was white satin with thick straps like a tank top. At the waist, there was a beaded diamond belt cinching your waist and then it flared out lightly from there; nowhere near a ball gown flare. You tried those types of dresses on and weren’t comfortable at all in them; they were so heavy to move around in.

There was a nother knock on the door and you looked up to see Robert and Sebastian looking rather dapper in their navy blue tuxes. Their eyes were glossy as they took everything in.

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” he turned and spoke to Sebastian as he sniffled his nose. His remark caused you to giggle and you did a twirl for them. Robert was the frist to greet you, taking your hands in his. “You make an absolutley stunning bride Erica.”

“Thank you Robert. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” He laughed before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

Sebastian was next to greet you and he didn’t waste any time putting his arms around your waist and giving you a hug. “I can’t get over how beautiful you look right now.”

“Hey now, I’ll only be second best when it finally comes to your ass marrying Margarita.” That got a laugh out of both men in the room. “And the best part?” you spoke with a gleaming smile. You placed your hands inside the pockets. “It has POCKETS!”

The music began to start and Robert handed you your boquet of flowers. Trailing behind them, you made your way outside the double doors. Robert and Sebastian stood on either side of you, both giving you warm smiles as you placed one arm around each of them. The three of you walked down the cobble sidewalk before stopping. All you had to do was turn left around the building and there Chris would be, waiting for you.

Looking up at the sky, it was the perfect day for an outside wedding. “Ready?” Robert whispered to you. Giving him a nod, the three of you turned the corner as everyone stood up.

Your eyes instantly landed on Chris. He had never looked more handsome than in this exact moment. Slowly, the three of you made your way up the aisle; your eyes never leaving Chris’. His mouth parted slightly as he got a better look at you, and then you saw him wipe away a tear. Your heart hammered in your chest, just wanting to be there next to him.

Chris walked down the two steps to greet you, taking your hand in his and helped you up the steps. “You look so beautiful Erica,” he whispered to you, making you blush.

During the wedding, your eyes and Chris’ stayed glued to each-other’s. You felt safe with your hands in his; heart full of love.

It was time for your vows, and you both decided to speak from the heart instead of the basic vows that many people do at weddings.

“Erica, from the moment I meant you, I knew you were special, even though you weren’t mine-yet.” There was a chorus of giggles from the audience as your eyes peered over at Sebastian’s. He was smiling and shaking his head. “Throughout the time I got to know you, you became such a close friend to me and I knew one way or another, you would always be a part of my life and I was happy with that. But then one horrific accident happened and somehow you ended up with me. And then another accident happened earlier this year and I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you would wake up one day and think ‘what the hell am I doing with this doofus’”. Another chorus of laughter erupted. “But here you are, still with me. And when you agreed to marry me, it was the happiest moment of my life, until now. I love you so much Erica and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You grabbed the tissue you had been holding, knowing you would need it as you wiped away the tears from your cheeks; not even caring anymore if your makeup was ruined. Chris’ words made you heart clench with love and all you wanted to do was pull him into a searing kiss, but you knew you had to wait.

“Chris,” you began to speak with a shaky voice. “Fate has a funny way of playing things out. Over the course of the last few years, I didn’t imagine how this would be endgame.” Naturally, those who were there that were a part of the Avengers movies snickered at your little comment. “But I couldn’t be more happier. You have fought for me, time and time again during the hardest parts of our relationship. In fact, you had to do it twice. And that shows me how much dedication you have between us. It shows that you are someone I can lean on and trust with my whole heart, knowing you would do anything for me. I am proud to stand next to you today, and to become your wife.”

Dodger came up to Chris, his color holding the boxes with your wedding bands in them. The rings were placed on your respected fingers; smiles all around.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant stated.

Chris’ large warm hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you to him as he placed his lips on yours. Your knees grew weak as you held onto his arms, never wanting the kiss to end. Chris pulled away, glancing lovingly into your eyes.

“Everyone, please congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Chris Evans!” the officiant said. Margarita handed you your flowers and you gripped Chris’ hand as the two of you walked down the aisle together as a married couple.

Tag List: @iamthemaskhewears @janeyboo @trees-and-ink @nina-bok@geektastic84 @sarahp879 @our-daily-struggle @nomadicpixel@trishevans @be-amazing @wipplog @ashann7 @have-aheart@agambleaway @lizzyclifford13-blog @lovingquotes @titty-teetee@ajosieface @ffcsave @dottirose @things-i-like-1982 @sirod-30@skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @patzammit @brastrangled @miss-cap21@pumbibaby @marvelouslyme96 @kanupps06 @the-real-kellymonster@zohoffman @princess-evans-addict @white-chocolate-mocha-fan@remember-that-one-blog @sincerelyfan@projectxhappiness@libbitinasdeath @hispeculiartreasure @guera31@ssweet-empowerment@sfreeborn @jjlevin @badassbaker @sophiealiice@supernatural-girl97@coffeebooksandfandom @esoltis280 @poerebel@laochbaineann@crushed-pink-petals @thisismysecrethappyplace @mrs-captain-evans

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans series #chris evans x you #chris evans x ofc #chris evans one-shot #chris evans imagine

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dismuch47 · 6 years

Text

Roswell Sequel Series Outline

@anheiressofasoldier Hooooo boy, are you gonna regret saying that you would be willing to read my pitch. Mwhahahahaaaa! (but seriously, thanks. I’ve been meaning to write this out since it has been so vivid in my head, down to the song that they play at the end, leading to the credits of tasteful, retro animated graphics of tabasco sauce bottles, waitress uniforms, and flying saucers...)

So let’s see if I can keep this down, somewhat...

EDIT: HAH. So long. Forgive the typos. So late and I don’t want to read through all of this when I spent so much time writing it! Not done yet...

So we open in Roswell, shots of some of the old spots that bring nostalgic feels, but years have passed: the old highway/gas station, a football practice at Roswell high, the diner (and they’re still wearing the old uniform style), UFO center, through some neighborhoods until we get to a house. We vaguely recognize it, but it focuses on an older man at a few computers, and some gentle panning reveals law enforcement memorabilia until we close in on the man’s glasses and those pale blue, worn eyes. Why it’s our beloved Jim Valenti! And he’s typing away on some conspiracy message board with wacky avatars that convey that he’s probably conversing with younger persons. There is a message for him and someone wants to meet him, to get the answers he promised. He contemplates, is reluctant, but then responds to meet him in the place that they originally agreed upon, in two weeks. He sends the message, exhaling, maybe this is a mistake... but then he looks at a picture of Kyle, grinning that Valenti smile, winning ball in his hands. Jim nods to himself, it’s decided, and he gets up to get coffee...

That’s when men in black suits bust in through the door, armed. Jim drops his cup, hands up. He’s too far from his guns, says something smart-ass to distract them... while his hands charge and a blinding flash of light comes from them.

That’s right. Jim Valenti has mother effing powers!

The men stumble about, whilst Jim dashes to the computer screens, holding a hand over them to blast out the hard-drive with energy pulses. He picks up a handgun that was strapped beneath the desk and takes out two men before he is thrown against the wall. One of the MIB has his hand raised, a supernatural opponent. None of the other MIB look phased. Jim looks up, wincing in confusion. One of the MIB asks the attacker if they should relocate Jim to “the compound” with the “others.” But the leader decides that Jim is too old to withstand any of the rigorous testing... he’d only be dead weight. He raises his hand to finish Jim Valenti off...

And we see Jim’s gaze wander back to the picture of his son, as his assailant’s hand glows...

And cut to black with a flair of cliff-hanger: Cue Roswell theme song and Roswell graphics...as it morphs from Roswell to more recognizable location of midwest city, the coast, New York, China, India, London...all tainted with something extraterrestrial/galactic... promising more of the unknown at a broader scale.

And then we start up in Cleveland, Ohio, of all effing places.

(And now I’m going to get less detailed; just thought it was important to establish the mood and intrigue first ;) Oh, and I also have like NO final name decisions for a lot of these characters, so forgive the half-assedness with these names.)

The character that we will ride on the back of to get to the characters we know and love is a hispanic youth (mid teens), who is clearly living in poverty and trying to keep his nose clean. Let’s call him...Alex. (: I had too; to honor the original). Alex is special, because he has powers, And he is a co-mod on a message board that reaches out to others with abilities. The main mod, who has been very encouraging and helpful in avoiding attention while still developing the abilities, has finally okayed meeting up for the first time with Alex (It is... was... Jim ): The halfway point that they agree upon is Nashville in two weeks. Alex has no money, but he has to find out why he has these abilities. He was dying from a shoot-out when he was young, caught in the crossfire, he was healed... it’s too hazy a memory, and ever since then, powers. and he’s not the only one.

In real life, Alex has 1 friend who moved from New York, (let’s call him Nicky) who also has abilities and shares a similar origin story... only it was a terminal illness while living on the streets. In his dreams, however, he knows Yen...a Vietnamese-American girl who can dream walk into anyone’s dreams. They’ve never met face to face, but they have bonded. Online, however, Alex is aware of 37 users who claim to have similar experiences with “the healer”, whether they remember it or not. Descriptions vary, so they can’t nail who he/she is. Alex, Nicky, and Yen (in dreams), decide to go on an epic road trip to meet the board mod, who Alex is CONVINCED is the healer.

So we have couple episodes of teen-powered shennanigans, meeting Yen in person, meeting up with some of the other “healed” (they have their own hand signal and everything); some awesome... some fake. So they reach Nashville, in the spot... and mod never comes. Alex knows something is up; the mod never would have pulled this (father complex issues). They do some investigating, looking for clues and they find something left behind. A floppy disk... which none of them know what the eff to do with. And then, someone seeks them out. Let’s call him...Greg. Late teens, maybe early 20′s...knows everything about Alex and is able to convince Nicky and Yen that he’s legit. (but he’s totally not legit). And Alex is wary, because he always got the vibe that mod was... older? With a full grown kid. Some simple questioning, and he’s able to trip up Greg, who also doesn’t have powers.

Outted, Greg shows his true colors and summons the MIB and takes the three youths after a brief skirmish (they put up a good fight, but the MIB are so experienced with their powers), they are taken to “the Compound.” (dun dun dun). The Compound is basically a hold and experimentation facility for HUMANS with extraordinary abilities; the “healed.” Alex and crew think it’s the dark government... but it’s actually aliens; Antarians, cleaning up human anomalies left over from their failed hybrid units. And, get this: they call “Greg”...ZAN. Oh yes. Very “human” Greg is Max’s estranged son, who bounced around in the foster system, has nice shiny baby memories of being the son of a king and queen and loved... only to face a very cruel world that recognized him as nothing. He’s mostly an icon, being the son of two hybrids, but he’s though of being less by the Antarians because of his powerless genetics. He’s out to prove himself to the elitist species.

Alex, Nicky, and Yen are able to escape from the compound with some clever thinking, and rallying beaten down inmates...on of the eldest being a man who was experimented on for 3 years. Despite his once peaceful ways and dry humor, he’s now a mind-warper with mad-skillz: Kyle Valenti (oh yeah. He HATES that that is his ability; self-loathing galore). The gang picks up another female, let’s call her Roxie (cause she got no-where to go!) and Kyle decides, after seeing what’s on the floppy disk (his dad, explaining why he started the website; because it was for the terminal kids who would grow up to have abilities, just like everyone else Max healed... but more people from the outside, all over, were getting abilities as Max and pod squad were on the run. Kyle is moved, and he decides that if the 4 want to meet the one who changed them to gain closure, he would be their guide. He explains the events of Roswell and the pod squad: the teens are floored that they are wrapped up in Alien stuff.

The plan is to go connect with Isabelle Evans, but on the way, Kyle diverts the trip when he sees an advertisement...for the singer Maria Deluca touring nearby (yeah, bear with me, I promise it will pay off). Nicky and Roxie are just rabid fans for Deluca so they are totes okay with this distraction. Touching reunion between Maria and Kyle. And Maria fills him in on the three years he’s been gone:

War is coming to Earth. Kivar diverted political tensions to Earth with a very brutal and militant species. Like this specious tears through planets like a plague. Upset with Kivar, Antar sent emissaries to find one of the royal 4, from either set of hybrids, but only found Zan... who was eager to be found. With the promise of giving him powers, Zan was enlisted to track a hybrid down. He had a lead on Micheal Guerin, who seemed to be around the corner, during certain times in his life... but he was able to use Micheal to get to Max. Max thought that a reunion was to occur arranged by Brody...but he was thrown into a portal and beamed to an Antarian vessel. That was a year ago.

Deluca declines going with the group to their next stop, unable to see LIz in the state she is in, getting pulled back into it all, and on top of it all...Maria is now a single mom of an adopted toddler: a boy. He’s her whole world and there was no room for anything else. Kyle and gang bids her farewell and continue on.

I don’t know where Isabel is, but they arrive and she has a pretty nice house, job: picture of normalcy. But she’s a wreck... and she nearly falls to pieces when she sees Kyle after three years. Yes. They were a thing at one point; she she spent every night trying to connect to his mind and dream walk with him. She has a daughter, Cassie, who looks just like her mother and fully embraces her her alien heritage as a princess; she the worst. She gets to know Alex, Nikki, Yen and Roxie, and they are floored by her abilities... that she flaunts. (no, Kyle is not the father... and neither is Jesse: DUN DUN DUUUUUN)

After Kyle and Isabel have their well deserved moment, they decide that the kiddies can’t come along, because it’s WAR, so they are to stay at Isabel’s house. And not only that... but the Parker-Evans chldren (all 3 of them) are dropped off by SERENA, Liz’s work budy from the University Lab Research Team (WHO THE EFF IS SERENA???) Turns out Serena be cool, but she’s a human who doesn’t know about any of the alien stuff (but she’s like mad smart with theoretical science). So the adults leave to go on patrol, and the teens think this sucks, though the little Parker-Evans kids are happy to have new playmates. Cassie pipes up that she’s not going to stick around, since the eldest kiddo is 13 and can handle her younger siblings so she gonna go abuse her powers to go clubing. She coaxes Alex to go with her, Roxie is down... but Yen and Nicky decide to stay at the house to protect the kids. Yen isn’t so happy that Cassie appears to be sinking her claws into Alex.

Club shenanigans, but then Alex Guilts Cassie to give a crap about what is going on outside of her comfy life and she tags along with him and Roxie as they go to shadow after the adults. And what they find is is a Michael Guerin, Isabel Evans, and Liz Parker-Evans kicking some serious alien ass. They are trying to steal aboard a vessel to get access to the Antarian ship hovering over earth. Then this armored opponent appears and nearly smears Liz across the gravel, but Micheal and Isabel are able to hold him briefly, giving Liz and chance to get a clean shot... but she hesitates. She can’t do it... and the armored figure is about to break free. Things look dire for the three, so Alex and Roxie spring to action, getting in a good shot or two, but the figure retreats back to the ship in a beam of light. Liz, instead of thanking the teens, yells at them.

It had been Max. Stripped of his consciousness and replaced with the collective consciousness (see how I’m including some book stuffs???) of Antar: their memories of King Zan poured into the hybrid vessel, Max Evans. The idea was to have their reclaimed King challenge Kivar for the throne. But King Zan, a distorted version, as memories aren’t a replacement for a SOUL... and with the temperament of a human...straight up just kills Kivar. And leads Antar into a dark age. Wah-waaaaaah.

But there’s a problem: remember how Dupe Isabel made the comment that Max’s pod set are the defectives? Too human? Well, it’s true... and Max’s body, being too human, can’t handle the energies and massive power from the crystals that he’s wielding. (it’s all about the crystals, for Antarians: they bring people back from the the dead, serve as text messages, it’s great... oh, and some probably become huge ass weapons) So basically, Max’s body is dying from being too over-extended. It’s like a rubber band that can’t snap back into shape, but just get’s looser, and looser until it just TEARS.

Then of course we have to have an episode about how the main gang got to their current states: Liz and Max of course married right away, had their first kid a few years after Isabel had Cassie. Liz got an online education and worked her way up to a position at a research Lab, where she met Serena (WHO DAH EFF IS SERENA???) Meanwhile Max works a late third shift at a hospital, or rotates around, and heals the really desperate cases. Micheal is ever vigilant to protecting Isabel and Max/Liz’s families, being a hard as nails yet doting uncle.. but he’s kind of a bar fly, even though he can’t drink (he likes the ambience), but gets squirrelly whenever a Deluca Classic comes on the jukebox. He has regrets... many regrets. He wears down Max to give the kids a normal life, get a mortgage, enroll them in public school... cause they deserve the best life experience. Isabel had Cassie pretty early on...after Jessie...Isabel hit a low, especially when she facebook stalked him to find out he had moved on. So she goes out, grabs the nearest stranger, and... well...(but it’s kinda important WHO that person was... It was human-meat-puppet Kivar. Who’s never too far from his Valondra; he’s THE WORST) Meanwhile, Kyle bonds with Isabel during her pregnancy, provides for her, has a fling with her, but it is never fully realized because Isabel freaks and needs to have control over her life and her daughters, so he becomes a cool uncle to Cassie. He opens his own garage. Maintains highly secretive correspondence with his father, when he’s lured to meet up with his dad... which was never arranged by Jim. He was taken to “The Compound”. Max does get a house with a fence for his family, and just when they settled in, they get a visit from a mysterious boy: Ethan. And Ethan says “You’re my dad.”

But the thing is, Ethan doesn’t look anything like Max: it’s all Tess. The young man has a clear memory of his mother, that fits Tess’ description, and that she loved Zan. He’s a nice guy, sweet, but has had a slew of misfortune with abusive families. He grows on Micheal... in an annoying way. After a DNA test, at the insistence of Liz, they find that Ethan shares no DNA, and is certainly not human. And a simple alien connection reveals that this isn’t Tess’ son... but Ava’s...and Rath (WHA? EW! NO! But yusss. I’m not saying it’s a good match, but it happened) And Ava did love Zan, and wanted Ethan to find Max...because she wasn’t in a good situation and had to give up her son for his best chance (OUAT ALL OVER AGAIN) since Rath would probs chuck that full-blooded alien babe at Antar for brownie points. So Ethan is disappointed but willing to depart but Micheal is all “Stay with me, twerp. But get a job and help pay rent.” Ethan makes breakfast for his grumpy new big brother/dad everyday.

Feeling awful for her unwillingness to let Ethan in right away, Liz supports Max in tracking down his biological son. He’s afraid that the same fate fell on Zan Jr. Which, fyi, Zan lived a very average life... but he could REMEMBER the alien stuff, and his mother, and another world... so basically, he loathed his family and situation. So Micheal agrees to help track down Zan, because he’s become pretty good at that kind of thing, and reunites the two, with the help of Brody... and then... well... you know how that goes.

Okay. I have to stop for the night. UGH I’m almost thru. No, but this is GREAT, writing it down. Maybe finally this idea will be exercised from my brain permanently!

#roswell prequel idea #read at your own risk

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philsdrill · 7 years

Text

Chapter 29: Passion

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 8.1k

[Uploads will be hopefully every couple of weeks! (follow @philsdrill-updates to hear when I post)]

A/N: I’ve been struggling a bit with finding the time to write with uni work lately, and I may have proofread this chapter after midnight, so feel free to tell me if I’ve missed any typos. Just a sidenote, I understand that Adam and Ethan aren’t quite the right ages for their school years, and they should probably both be a year behind. I don’t quite understand the English school system so just worked off how I was 16/17 for my last year at school. I think in England my birthday would’ve put me down a year - it’s quite confusing. Anyway, it doesn't matter much for the story, just sorry for the inaccuracy and don't take anything I’m saying about the school system as accurate, as I don’t really know it. I left school with 8 AS Level equivalents I think?

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

Dan’s POV:

Ethan had been back on his medication for around ten days now and he was doing pretty good. After the first couple of days when he’d been plagued by the negative side effects, things had been steadily going uphill. He was starting to smile more, and although it would be a long time before the depression left him completely, I think we could all see a lot of improvement.

We were now working on getting him to be able to go home with Adam, back to my parents house. There were things to be done, people to tell. My mum had been up a couple of times to help sort things out, as she knew how to talk to schools and banks better than Phil and I did. There was the odd issue as she wasn’t related to Ethan, but with him being seventeen, he was old enough to be allowed to make these changes himself.

Today, all of us were heading into Ethan’s school to talk to his guidance teacher about what had happened, collect any of his work he might need and have him officially leave the school. Ethan had texted his mum beforehand to get some kind of idea of what they knew already:

Just to let you know to let you know that I’ll be moving down south to live with my soulmate and his family. I’m not going to sit my exams and I’ll take this year again next year. What have you told the school?

His mum’s reply confirmed what we all expected… that his school knew hardly anything.

You’re off ill for mental health reasons until further notice. That’s what we said at the start of the year and we haven’t said anything since then.

Having spoken with Ethan and Adam, I knew that my Mum, Phil and I would be doing the talking. We would probably go into a lot of detail to make sure everything was cleared up, and we didn’t want Ethan getting triggered by the memories.

My mum had phoned up in advance to let them know that we were coming. It probably took a bit of explaining, but they knew that a group of us would be along with Ethan to talk about the situation. My mum and Ethan did the talking at reception and soon enough we were being guided along the corridor to where we were having a meeting with Mrs Andrews, the teacher who was in charge of dealing with Ethan’s subject choices, discipline and any problems he might have with bullying, classmates, course content or mental health. She was the one who Ethan could’ve gone to about how he was feeling, if only he’d been able to put trust in her at the time.

We all joined her a small meeting room initially, until Mrs Andrews asked about what had been happening. My mum was beginning to explain, when I stopped her, not wanting Ethan to have to hear all of this.

“Mum, hold on,” I said, cutting her off, “I think Ethan should go outside while we do this. Adam, maybe go with him.”

Ethan looked over at me thankfully and the two of them got up, linked hands effortlessly and left the room.

“So, Dan, why is it better for Ethan not to be here?” Mrs Andrews asked, sounding a bit puzzled.

“Okay, you were told in January that he was off for mental health reasons, right?” I asked, wanting to confirm this before we started off.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Okay,” I said, deciding that I should just get straight to what had happened and then backtrack to why, “He attempted suicide a few hours into the new year. He was and still is suffering from severe depression. I feel like having him hear this could trigger dark thoughts and make him want to harm himself.”

“Right,” the teacher nodded, suddenly looking a lot more serious, grabbing her notepad and scribbling something down.

“Shall we go from the beginning?” I asked rhetorically, knowing she should hear the entire story.

Between, Phil, my Mum and I, we explained things from the beginning, how Ethan knew even before he met his soulmate that his parents would disown him, for his soulmate was male too. Quite how long he’d been suffering from symptoms of depression, we didn’t know, but it was steadily getting worse towards the end of the year. My mum and I explained how we had heard about all of this through Adam and seen his reaction to Ethan trying to take his life.

It was another month before they met, in which Ethan had spent some time in hospital, then returned home where he ended up partaking in a lot of self harm. They got to spend a few days together which was good for them, but Ethan had to go home and keep it all a secret, which was hard for him. Two weeks later he accidentally let it slip to his dad; he got badly beaten up and kicked out and has been staying with me and Phil for two weeks now. He’s now taking antidepressants which I think are helping, but he’s still not stable.

“What’s your plan with him?” Mrs Andrews asked, after making some more notes, “He’s too old to go into a children’s home but it sounds like he needs looking after… a mental ward?”

“No, no, he’s spent his time there,” I said, “He’s going to move down south to live with Adam and our parents. He’s not being away from Adam now. We think that’s what’s best for him. It gives him a fairly stable family environment and his soulmate, which is two things he’s been lacking recently.”

“Yes, I can see that being good for him, but it could also have been good for him to continue living in an area he knows well,” she commented.

“We’ve thought about this. Phil and I are the only people he knows around here and we can’t support him permanently. Also Adam will be sitting his AS Level exams in June and he can’t be changing schools at this stage in the year,” I explained.

“And Ethan can?” she asked, sounding mildly horrified, “He’s had enough disruption as it is.”

“He’ll be going back to school in September and doing his A-Levels next year instead,” I explained, “He’s missed too much this year, would you not agree?”

“He’s always been a clever boy, I think he could catch up and still do well,” she said, “But if you think that’s what’s best for him, then that’s fine.”

“If he was suddenly cured of his depression right now then maybe he could, but it doesn’t work like that. I have no doubt he’s still going to be struggling with his mental health for a while,” I explained, “I think a few months with no stress and just getting used to his new surroundings will be good for him.”

“Okay,” Mrs Andrews said almost cheerily, that tone of voice teachers use to change the subject, “Are we taking him off the system today then, have him officially leave?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” I nodded, “Is that possible?”

“It should be. I’ll need to go and talk with his year head, but she’s free this afternoon so that should be possible,” she nodded, “Would you like some tea or coffee while I go and see if she’s available?”

“Can Ethan go around his teachers and collect his work, as it might be useful for him next year?” I asked, knowing that was something he wanted to do.

“Yes, that’ll be fine. Will one of you go with him, just so he’s not alone?” she asked.

“Adam probably will,” Phil said, “Or do you want one of us to go too?”

“Could you? I’m just concerned in case he bumps into anyone in his year who might ask too many questions,” she explained, “You know what teenagers can be like.”

“I’ll go?” Phil volunteered, “This used to be my school, so I’m interested to see if it's changed much in six or seven years.”

Phil left the room at the same time as Mrs Andrews, off to join Adam and Ethan and head around the school to collect Ethan’s work. Mrs Andrews returned with the stuff to make coffee for both me and my mum, apologising that she couldn’t find any teabags.

My mum took her up on the offer, but I politely declined, “Sorry, but I can’t drink coffee.”

Mrs Andrews made the coffee for my mum, gave me a cup of water, then left to go and find Ethan’s year head.

“Why is it you don’t take coffee again? It makes you shaky or something?” My mum asked, clearly trying to recall whatever excuse I’d given when I was down to see her at new year.

“Umm kind of,” I said, now willing to tell her a bit more about my anxiety, “You know I’m taking medication for anxiety… it’s connected to that. Like the caffeine can raise my anxiety levels, which sometimes I can deal with, but I’ve had panic attacks because of it before.”

“Ahh,” my mum mumbled, nodding as she tried to understand, “How much does this affect you? You didn’t seem very willing to talk about it at new year.”

“I’ve had my medication dose upped since then, so I’m doing better. I was having like one or two panic attacks a week before that, which wasn’t great, but I haven’t had many in the last couple of weeks,” I explained.

“You said you do breathing exercises to help an attack, right?” she asked, again wanting to confirm what I’d previously told her.

“Yup,” I nodded, “But I have a second medication that I take that helps me calm down a lot quicker. As well as the breathing, I shake and sometimes sweat and my heart beats really fast. Beta-blockers, they’re technically a heart medicine but the doctor prescribed me them for my anxiety attacks and they help so much.”

At this, I brought the tub out of my coat pocket to show her, “I carry them everywhere with me. I’ve had anxiety attacks twice where I’ve left them at home, and neither of those were pretty.”

“I’m so proud of you,” my mum said suddenly, nodding, “This can’t be easy, but you’ve done the right thing going to the doctor and getting the help you can.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, not quite sure how to react to that, “I see a therapist too, just so you know. That helps, because although I can talk to Phil about things, he’s not a professional. I usually go alone, although Phil does always offer to come with me if I need the support. I’ve only taken him up on that once, but that was two days after an appointment where I had a really big panic attack in her office and Phil had to bring my medication and take me home.”

“How does Ethan’s medication work then? Is that something he always needs to carry with him?” my mum asked.

“No, he just needs to take it every morning and that’s him for the day. If he was going away for the night, then yes, he’d need to take it with him, but not other than that,” I explained, “It’s the same medication that I take every day for my anxiety; there’s connections between anxiety and depression so antidepressants can treat both.”

“Ethan doesn’t have the beta blockers too, then?” she asked, wanting to confirm.

“No, he doesn’t have panic attacks, well not generally,” I confirmed, “He may have had one or two things that could probably be classified as one, so I would keep an eye on him and talk to me if you’re worried about anything.”

Mrs Andrews eventually returned and put an abrupt end to our conversation. She had been to speak to Ethan’s year head and returned with a few bits of paperwork.

“We’ll just this form filled out for the admin, but that’s all that really needs to be done,” she explained, handing over the form to me and my mum, “You can maybe make a start on it, fill in the details of the school he’s transferring to.”

My mum took the form and pulled a pen out of her handbag to start filling it in. She knew the school’s details off the top of her head, with both me and Adam having gone there. I took out my phone and texted Phil to see how the work collecting was going.

Phil’s POV:

I knew my way around the school reasonably well, as this had been my school as a teenager. It had changed a little in the six or seven years since I left, but I’m sure some of the work pinned to the walls had been there when I left.

Ethan was going to see his English, Maths, Psychology and Art teachers. The first three of these, he just popped into a classroom and was back out in under two minutes, getting the job done quickly and efficiently. He just explained to them that he was moving and would like his work as he would be sitting his A-Levels next year instead.

His art teacher was a bit of a different story. He’d made the comment as we approached the classroom that this might be a bit of a longer discussion as he was on quite good terms with him. Adam and I waited outside again, but this time we could hear all of what he said as the door was wedged open.

“Ethan! I haven’t seen you in a while,” the teacher explained, his voice full of excitement, “Are you coming back?”

“No, I’m moving. I’m just here to sort things out with the school and get my work,” Ethan explained.

“Where are you moving to?” he asked.

“Near Reading, to be with my soulmate,” Ethan explained, “I met him about a month ago.”

“Your soulmate! Nice; I don’t think there’s many people in your year who have met theirs yet,” the teacher commented.

“Yeah, I’m a telepathic bond type, which generally means meeting younger,” Ethan explained, probably unsure if this was common knowledge.

“Nice, I have a skin connection with mine; we’re both artists and draw on ourselves a lot so that gave it away eventually,” Ethan’s teacher told him, “I’ve always wondered what having a telepathic bond would be like?”

“It can be challenging, Adam would say that anyway,” Ethan commented, then realised he hadn’t introduced Adam, “Adam’s my soulmate.”

“What’s he like? Is he what you were expecting or did you just kind of know what he was like already?” the teacher asked.

“Kind of, I knew he was a boy, and I had a strong sense of brown hair and eyes,” Ethan explained, “He’s just outside actually. Want to meet him?”

A couple of moments later, Ethan appeared at the door, “Want to meet Mr Davidson?”

He initially pointed this question at Adam, but then nodded at me, “You too, Phil.”

“Mr Davidson,” I mumbled, now realising why his voice had sounded strangely familiar; he was same teacher I’d had for my A-Level art.

“Phil?” Ethan said, Adam having followed him in the door, but me still hanging around in the hallway.

“He’s my old teacher,” I said, hoping that my realisation explained my delay.

“Nice,” Ethan said, the three of us now heading properly into the room.

“This is Adam,” Ethan said, putting his arm around Adam’s waist for a moment.

“And this is Phil, Adam’s brother’s soulmate,” he explained, “I’ve been living with him for the last two weeks.”

“Phil…” My Davidson mused, “...Lester. I remember you.”

I nodded, smiling, but not saying much as this was really about Ethan. He exchanged a few words with both me and Adam, before getting back to Ethan.

“So Ethan, any idea what you’re doing next year yet? What you want to do with your life? Have you applied for uni?” Mr Davidson asked.

“No, I’m going to redo this school year next year,” Ethan explained, “As for my life, I’m not really sure. I wasn’t planning to be around…”

Ethan trailed off, thinking for a moment, “I’ll be honest with you about where I’ve been for the last two months… I attempted suicide at the start of the year.”

Mr Davidson’s expression slowly changed to one of shock and Adam looked rather surprised that he was actually talking about this. I could see that Adam was now on red alert for Ethan breaking down, because it didn’t usually end too well when he chose to bring this up. He reached out for Ethan’s hands, which were anxiously balled together in front of him, encouraged them apart, then held one of them in his own.

“I still don’t really have my life planned out other than being with Adam,” Ethan explained, a little shakily, “I like art; I think out of all my subjects it was what I was most passionate about, but I’ve pretty much lost interest in everything.”

I watched Adam squeeze Ethan’s hand and shuffle a little closer to him. He was handling this well, but it still wasn’t easy for him to talk about it

“Awwhh Ethan, were you feeling like this long?” Mr Davidson asked, “You should’ve spoken to someone.”

“I know, but it wasn’t that easy. My dad’s really homophobic and I knew I’d be out on the streets the moment he found out my soulmate was a guy,” Ethan explained, “He knows now… which is why I’m moving to live with Adam. I’ve been staying with Adam’s brother and Phil for two weeks as they live nearby.”

“Are things a bit better now then?” Mr Davidson, asked, his voice still full of concern.

“I guess so,” Ethan said, sounding unsure, “Like I’ve gained Adam, but I’ve lost my family and although they maybe weren’t the best with all of their views, they were all I’ve known.”

Ethan was sounding rather choked up as he said this. Adam seemed to know exactly when he was about to start crying and pulled Ethan into a hug the moment he finished the sentence.

Mr Davidson and I looked at each other, both knowing we should give them a moment of peace. I moved around them to speak to him; I could get Ethan’s work from him and that would let us leave sooner.

I asked Mr Davidson for Ethan’s work. He got up, walked across the classroom to some large drawers and pulled two folders out of one.

“Here you go,” he said passing them to me, “He’s very talented; I have no doubt he’ll do well in art. Hopefully these’ll give him a head start and he’ll just be able to pick up where he left off, next year.”

“Yes,” I nodded, studying the artwork in the top of the folder. I couldn’t see much of the work, but there were a couple of very striking portraits on top, in a dark color scheme.

I carefully held onto the two folders of work, making sure that they were up the right way so that the contents didn’t spill out onto the floor. Once Ethan had collected himself a little bit, we got going, him saying a slightly tearful goodbye to his art teacher as we headed out the door. Adam held his hand as we walked through the corridors and headed back downstairs; it had only been a little breakdown, but Ethan was clearly shaken up by what he had told his art teacher and there could potentially be more tears to come.

Adam looked deep in thought and I was going to bet he was half in Ethan’s head, trying to calm his mind a little bit. We arrived back at the room where Dan and his mum were talking to Ethan’s guidance teacher. I knocked and the three of us walked in, each taking a seat.

“Ethan, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Mrs Andrews asked, not really giving him long enough to get settled.

Ethan didn’t react immediately, then after a couple of seconds looked up, looking rather dazed, then panickedly at Adam.

“Maybe not right now,” Adam said putting an arm around Ethan and mumbling something into his ear, “We’re going back out into the corridor for two minutes, but we’ll be back.”

With there being a slot window in the door, I was able to see what was going on. Adam guided Ethan across the corridor and they sat down on the blue comfy seats that were right opposite the door. Adam wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist and lightly rested his head on his shoulder, mumbling things to him. I didn’t know what Adam was saying, but I hoped it was helping.

I learnt that Dan and his mum had been busy filling in some forms for Ethan while we’d been gone. It turned out that all Mrs Andrews really needed from him was to know if there was anything in his locker, and have him sign the forms.

I looked through the door again and saw Ethan turning into Adam for a hug, visibly inhaling deeply and relaxing a bit.

“Dan, I think if one of us goes out there and lets him know that’s all, he’ll probably be okay with it,” I said, realising that Ethan probably assumed the worst when she said she had a couple of questions.

“I’ll do it,” Dan volunteered, getting up and opening the door.

“You guys doing okay?” Dan asked softly, “All she wants to ask is if you have anything in your locker and if you can sign a couple of forms?”

“Okay,” Ethan nodded a little timidly, “I can do that.”

The pair of them got up, Adam instinctively resting his hand on the small of Ethan’s back as they walked the few steps into the room. They joined us at the table and Dan slid the forms towards Ethan, Mrs Andrews pointing out where he needed to sign.

Ethan pushed up his sleeve, picked up the pen and signed his name. His emotional state had made it a little shaky, but I’m sure it would suffice. He plopped the pen back down on the table and relaxed his arm in front of him. They didn’t really catch my eye anymore, but I noticed Mrs Andrews staring at his scars. Ethan must’ve noticed this too, as a few seconds later, he tugged his sleeve back down and put both of his arms under the table.

There was a moment or two of silence as Mrs Andrews realised she’d maybe crossed a line, then she changed the subject and acted as if nothing had happened, “So, do you have anything in your locker? We can give you the spare key to empty it, but don’t worry about returning your copy of the key; we’ll get a new one made.”

Ethan let her know that he probably did have things in his locker, so Mrs Andrews went to get the spare key. We all accompanied him to empty it, as we would be passing on the way out anyway. The contents of his locker were a smelly PE kit, a maths textbook and a notebook which he told us was a journal type thing he kept for a while.

The locker now empty, he handed the key and the maths textbook over to Mrs Andrews, who assured him she would return it to his maths teacher. We exchanged a few goodbyes and Mrs Andrews wished Ethan good luck with his future, and with that, we left. Ethan had a note of her email address in case his new school needed any more information and he had said he would try and email her next year with his results.

We headed to the cars, Dan’s mum to her own and the rest of us to mine. We loaded Ethan’s work into the boot, then got into the car ourselves. Ethan kept ahold of the journal from his locker, and it was as he drove back that he explained what it was about.

“This journal was one of the last things I gave up on. Writing my thoughts down actually kept me sane for a while. I can’t really remember why it was in my locker, but I think I forgot to take it home when I left for the Christmas holidays,” Ethan explained, “There’s a lot in here and I don’t really want to reread it myself yet, but Adam, it might join up some of the dots for you.”

Adam took the book from Ethan and held onto it, quietly thinking, “I think we should go through this together when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Ethan nodded, “It might be a while before I’m ready, but if that’s what you want to do.”

Halfway home, Adam asked if it would be okay for him to move into the middle seat. I pulled over and stopped the car to let him move safely and without the seatbelt sounder going off. Nothing was really wrong, just Ethan was feeling a little emotional about putting his old school behind him, and wanted a hug.

The rest of the journey home, they were cuddled up together and Ethan looked a lot more comfortable. Adam had put his old journal out of the way on the far seat. It was there, it’s presence was felt, but they didn’t need to do anything about it just yet.

That afternoon, Dan’s mum headed home. As far as we knew, everything was sorted for Ethan to move, which would be happening in just over a week. Ethan had been in contact with his mum a little, and would maybe be able to get into his house to get some of his stuff. It wasn’t organised yet, as his Dad not wanting to see him complicated matters, but his mum wanted him to have his things and get the chance to say goodbye properly.

Dan and Adam went down to the car park to see their mum off; meanwhile Ethan and I stayed in the warmth of the flat and watched from the living room window. Adam and Dan both hugged her goodbye. It would be just over a week before they saw her again, which for Dan would be no problem, but Adam wasn’t really used to being away from her for long.

“I kinda miss my mum,” Ethan admitted, bringing my attention back to him and the few tears that were starting to spill.

“Let’s go sit down,” I said softly, putting a hand on his back and guiding him over to the sofas.

I passed him a few tissues and sat next to him, facing into him a little as he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

“Are you okay? D’you want to talk about her at all?” I asked, wondering if it would help for him to talk or if he really just needed some alone time.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “It’s just been getting to me a bit with their mum here, that I don’t have that in my life anymore… and there’s little things, like she baked bread a lot and I’m so used to the smell of bread everywhere and the little homemade rolls and things…”

Ethan trailed off, rubbing his hands over his eyes to push a few more tears away.

“I don’t know if it would help, but I could make bread if you want,” I offered, not knowing whether that would make him happy or just make him miss his mum more.

“I’m sure you make great bread and all, but it probably won’t be be same,” Ethan said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “It might make me more sad than happy.”

“I get that,” I said, passing him a couple more tissues.

I got up to look out the window and see whether Dan’s mum had left yet. It turned out she was just leaving, her pulling out of the car park and Dan and Adam waving from the side.

“That’s her driving away now,” I told Ethan, “Adam’ll be back up soon.”

“I don’t really want him to see this,” Ethan said, blowing his nose determinedly and dabbing a bit at his eyes, “I’ve cried in front of him enough today.”

“Ethan, you should be able to cry in front of him as much as you need,” I said, realising he was trying to bottle it up, “He’s your soulmate, he’s always gonna be here for you.”

“Mmm,” Ethan mumbled, glancing at a mirror he could probably just catch his reflection in.

“And he’ll have felt it anyway,” I reminded him, “I think you should at least acknowledge how you’re feeling in front of him.”

“I guess. I just don’t want him to make a fuss,” Ethan explained, ”It’s nothing; I just maybe need a hug, that’s all.”

“Just let him know why you were sad but all you want is a hug and no fuss,” I suggested, “He’ll respect that.”

When Adam came in, he immediately gravitated towards Ethan because he knew something was up.

“Ethan,” he said, speaking really softly, “What’s up?”

“Please don't make a fuss, but I just miss my mum a bit,” Ethan admitted, turning a little bit pink.

“That’s okay…” Ada, nodded, “D’you want to talk about it?”

“I already did to Phil but there’s not much to say,” Ethan explained, “Can I just get a hug?”

“Of course,” Adam said, settling onto the sofa next to Ethan and putting his arms around him, pulling him into his lap to hold him close.

I moved to the kitchen to start getting some things out for dinner, but half listened in, hearing as Adam gradually picked up a conversation, then slowly made it funny to make Ethan feel better. They were doing well, getting to know each other really well now and starting to grow together too.

Dan’s POV:

Dinner had been eaten, it was now getting towards nine o’clock and the four of us were watching a film in the living room. Phil and I were quite content, cuddled up together on one sofa. Ethan and Adam had been doing similar on the other one, with Ethan pretty much sat in Adam’s lap, but I was starting to sense that there was something more going on.

They were whispering things to each other, so quiet that neither Phil nor I would be able to hear what they were saying, and Adam seemed to be moving his hands around under the blanket that was spread across Ethan’s lap. Ethan was reacting to some of these movements, in a way which told me that Adam’s hands were somewhere very private. They were trying to be subtle about what they were doing, but they were both a little red in the face and I could tell.

“Guys,” I spoke up, moving from a sidelong glance to looking at them properly, “D’you maybe want to go to your room for a bit of privacy?”

Adam immediately turned bright red, “Yeah, was just thinking about doing that.”

The pair of them got up to go, Ethan taking the blanket with him, trying to retain some of his modesty by shielding his crotch from view. Adam, however, was visibly hard, the tent in his jeans very obvious now that he no longer had Ethan sitting in front of him.

Once they were in their room with the door shut behind them, Phil turned to me, “D’you think they’re going to…”

“...do something?” I finished the question Phil had left hanging, “Probably. Can’t say what as I don’t know how comfortable they are with each other yet, but we’ll just leave them be until the morning to give them the privacy they need.”

Phil and I continued to watch the TV for a bit, which just about drowned out any noises they were making. There might have been the odd sound, but they were keeping quiet enough that it equally could’ve been the neighbours.

“You wanting to do anything particularly later?” Phil asked, nuzzling his face into my neck and leaving a couple of kisses there.

“I don’t mind,” I said, warmly, “I’m quite happy just cuddling and stuff; this is nice and cosy, but equally I’m down for doing something in the bedroom if you want.”

“Hmm, I could go some nice relaxed love making,” Phil mused, “But let’s see how we feel later.”

“Yeah, good plan,” I agreed, leaning in to kiss Phil.

Our cosy cuddling session came to an abrupt end just after ten o’clock. It took a few seconds for us to register the wailing noise that ripped through the otherwise fairly quiet flat. It was the fire alarm. Phil seemed reasonably calm and collected, getting up and telling me to go and put my shoes on, grab a coat and start heading down the stairs when I was ready.

Phil knocked on Adam and Ethan’s door, “Guys, that’s the fire alarm, I hope you’re not in the middle anything, but you need to make sure you’ve got some clothes on and get out here asap.”

“Yeah, we’re on it,” Adam replied, “We’ll be out in like thirty seconds.”

I put my shoes on, grabbed a coat and as a last minute thought, grabbed my anxiety medicine. The alarm had sparked panic in me, but I was just doing my best to focus on getting myself outside… well and make sure Phil was coming too.

“You take this,” Phil said, handing me the blanket we had been cuddling with on the sofa, “Get yourself outside and I’ll be right down, okay.”

“Okay,” I said, taking the blanket from Phil and making my way to our front door.

As I opened the door to leave the flat, Adam and Ethan burst out of their room in an assortment of mismatched clothes. Adam had on the t-shirt Ethan was wearing earlier, but backwards and Ethan was wearing his pyjama top.

“Right, c’mon everyone,” I said, deciding they were close enough behind me to warrant me waiting and holding the door open.

I knew it could be nothing, like someone had burnt some toast or there was a fault in one of the detectors, but I couldn’t get past the idea that it could be a big building fire, that we could die if we didn’t get out of the place quickly. With that in mind, I didn’t want to leave Phil, even if he was just right behind me.

With everyone together, we let the door swing shut behind us and hurried down the stairs, seeing a few other people from our building further down the stair ahead of us. We all grouped together in the car park, where everyone was trying to figure out what was going on. No one seemed to have any idea what was happening, but a number of the longer standing residents assured us that the fire brigade would be on their way.

Phil and I stood together with our blanket around us and fairly quickly Ethan and Adam started hugging to preserve body heat. I was still feeling a little panicky, but so far I was managing to keep the feeling at bay and not let if affect me.

When the fire brigade arrived, my panic dissipated a little, knowing the situation was now in safe hands. Everyone I loved was safe and the fire brigade were going to stop my home burning down. I felt safe with Phil’s arm around me and the knowledge that everything would be okay.

With things starting to calm down inside my head, I was able to take in more of what was going on around me. Some people were outside in their pyjamas, in their slippers and flip-flops and other clothing you might not normally wear outside. Some people looked like they’d just been woken up by the alarm, but everyone looked tired of being out here in the cold.

My gaze returned to Adam, Ethan and Phil, in particular Ethan. He looked wrecked and his legs were shaking slightly, even though he was tightly latched onto Adam. It seemed that Adam was pretty much holding him up, despite looking tired himself.

A few moments later, Ethan admitted that there was something wrong, “Adam, I feel a bit faint.”

At this, Adam adjusted his grip on Ethan so both of his arms were around his torso, probably so he could catch him if he passed out.

“Right, let’s sit down,” Adam said, giving Ethan the encouragement he needed to sit down on the ground.

Adam sat down with Ethan, letting himself be used as a headrest whilst he enveloped Ethan in a hug, “Sit still and maybe bring your head down onto your lap if everything is spinning?”

Ethan remained still, but didn’t move his head, “I’m just gonna stay here for a bit - don’t want to move yet.”

“Okay,” Adam nodded, “I’ll give you some peace, but speak up if you feel any worse.”

“Ethan are you cold?” I said, crouching down a little to get more on his level.

“A bit, yeah,” he nodded into Adam’s shoulder.

“Okay,” I said, glancing at Phil for approval, then taking the blanket off our shoulders and draping it around Ethan’s, “I think you need this the most at the moment. You’re only gonna get colder now you’re sat on the ground.”

I stood up straight again and leaned into Phil to keep warm. I hoped that Ethan would be okay now; he still looked pale and shaky, but Adam was certainly doing his best to keep him cosy, hugging him tightly and rubbing his back. Phil and I weren’t really hugging, but we had made the mutual decision to press up together to preserve body heat. It was amazing, as Phil probably wasn’t much warmer than me, but he just felt so warm and cosy that I didn’t feel like I would ever want to split apart from him.

One fireman came out of the building to let us know what had happened. It turned out there had been a fire in a kitchen on the fourth floor due to an electrical fault in a kitchen appliance, but it had been caught quickly enough that they were able to to put it out and there was nothing to worry about. It would still be a bit longer before we were allowed back inside, however, as they needed to remove the faulty electrical appliance that caused the fire, some damaged appliances from that kitchen and check the smoke levels in other parts of the building. An emergency electrician was on his way to check that the wiring hadn’t been damaged and was still safe to use throughout the building.

The next half hour consisted of the firemen bringing some rather burnt things out of the building, the emergency electrician arriving and heading inside to do his tests and everyone getting even colder than they already were. Ethan had started to shiver quite violently, so Adam had pulled him into his lap, unzipped his own jacket so he could pull the sides of it around Ethan, bringing him closer into his chest.

Once all the burnt appliances were removed and the safety tests carried out, we were called up by flat and allowed back into the building. Ethan and Adam got to their feet as the second flat was called, knowing that we would be soon.

Ethan got up slightly ahead of Adam and as soon as he was on his feet, he looked like he was having a dizzy spell. I knew all about getting up too fast, so I held onto him while he got his bearings and while Adam finished standing up. After a brief few words with one of the firemen, we all made our way inside and up the stairs, everyone looking out for Ethan and making sure he got back to the flat safely.

The stairwell had smelt a bit smoky, but thankfully the smell didn’t reach inside our flat. Once inside, I headed with Ethan and Adam along to their room and I sent Phil to get an extra blanket or two. Ethan removed the pair of jeans he had rather hastily thrown on, with no reservations about me being there, despite the fact he was butt-naked underneath them. Adam laughed and pulled the blanket down a bit to save the rest of his dignity, before encouraging him into bed.

Phil arrived with a couple of extra blankets, then suggested that Ethan might like a hot drink. Ethan rejected the offer, yawning sleepily and saying that he was alright, he’d just like to sleep. He was still shivering a bit, but the warmth of being inside, along with the duvet and three blankets, was gradually warming him up.

Adam left the room with me and Phil, as we headed to the living room, probably to talk about what had happened. The air in the living room was a lot clearer; Adam and Ethan’s room was a bit muggy and smelt like sex, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.

“I think I tired him out a bit and he just needed to sleep,” Adam said, referring to how Ethan had been feeling a bit faint.

“I get that,” I nodded, thinking about how I would’ve felt if it had happened just after I’d been doing something with Phil.

“We… uhh… we tried out fingering and I think it was a lot for him,” Adam explained, turning a bit red, “He hadn’t really had time to recover.”

“Yeah, it can be really intense, and especially being his first time too,” I nodded, fully understanding why Ethan was tired.

“You should get to bed early too,” Phil said to Adam, “I don’t need to know what all you did, but you’re probably more tired than you think… and you want to be there for him in the morning.”

“Mmm, I guess,” Adam nodded, “Well there’s not much else for me to do, so I might as well. That’ll let you guys have some time to yourselves too.”

While it could’ve been taken in the wrong way, I sensed there was nothing behind Adam’s last statement other than some underlying feeling that he was third-wheeling. He didn’t need to know that we might actually get up to something later; I didn’t feel comfortable about him knowing that, at least before it happened. Phil and I wished Adam a goodnight, then he disappeared off along the corridor to get himself ready for bed.

Phil and I got ready for bed, and we were both cuddled up under the duvet before we even discussed doing anything more intimate. I think it was still on both of our minds, we were just making sure everything else was dealt with first.

It was Phil who brought it up eventually, “How're you feeling about doing something?”

“Yeah, I get what you meant earlier. I'm up for it,” I told him, “But like slow and kinda relaxed, yeah?”

“Yup, sounds perfect,” Phil nodded, snuggling a bit closer and slipping his fingers under my pyjama top, “Let's get the these off.”

I let Phil undress me, making sure that his clothing came off at a similar place. Soon enough, we were both naked together, and I could feel every inch of Phil pressed up against me.

Phil took the lead, as usual, getting things as heated as he could, while still keeping it relaxed. It was less making out and hard fast movements, and more slow passionate kisses with gentle grinding.

I didn't notice Phil getting the lube until I heard the sound of the bottle opening. It was very dark in our room as we didn't even have the lamps on, but we knew each other well enough now that doing it in the dark was just a nice sensory experience rather than a challenge.

“You ready?” Phil asked, nudging my legs apart and bringing a lube-coated finger up to my hole.

“Yup,” I nodded, preparing myself for Phil’s finger; we hadn’t exactly done this much recently so I was quite tight.

Phil stretched me slowly and carefully, but still made it feel good by brushing against my prostate every so often. He was careful not to get me too far gone though, we both wanted to save ourselves for when Phil was inside me.

When I was ready, and boy was I ready, Phil squeezed some more lube onto his hand, used it to coat his dick and lined himself up, using his hand to guide his penis through the darkness to my entrance.

As Phil pushed himself in, the sensations were so intense, it was like our first time all over again. As we couldn’t see from the darkness, it seemed all of our other senses were amplified. It took me a little time to get used to the stretch of Phil filling me up, but I let him know when I was ready for him to move. As we’d agreed, Phil moved slowly, but it wasn’t long before we found a good rhythm and the extra time we had allowed us to things to make it that little bit better. Phil’s mouth found mine and we kissed as he slid in and out of me, the passion making it more about love than lust. Okay, it was nice to have a quick fuck with him now and then, but slow loving sex with my soulmate meant so much more.

When I came, with Phil meeting his own release inside of me, it was good, so good. I unleashed a moan without a care in the world and let it tear through me, my body trembling as my dick spilt its load into Phil’s hand and across my stomach. My orgasm lasted longer than Phil’s, the prostate stimulation always making it more intense. He helped me through it though, giving me the friction I needed and continuing to move against my prostate whilst I needed it.

Phil pulled out and I sank back into the bed, exhausted, physically spent. Phil cuddled with me for a couple of minutes while we both caught our breath, then he excused himself to go and get something to clean up. He returned with some wipes, using them to collect up the white stickiness from my stomach.

“There,” Phil said, gently wiping the last few drops that had slittered down my dick, “You’re less sticky now.”

Phil binned the wipes and climbed back into bed, cuddling up next to me and filling me with warmth. Despite Phil’s cleaning efforts, we might still need to wash the sheets in the morning, but we’d assess that situation in daylight. It was worth it anyway. I felt amazing and I knew Phil did too; I could almost feel the smile radiating off of him.

In the morning, we caught Adam and Ethan stuffing their sheets into the washing machine, so Phil and I thought we’d contribute ours to the load. With the washing machine whirring away in the background, all four of us sat down for a good breakfast. I was hungry after the events of last night and knew I needed to eat well to give myself energy for the day ahead.

Ethan seemed to be feeling fine this morning, but I kept an eye on what he was eating, knowing that he too could be at risk at not ingesting enough energy to get him through the morning. Although we suffered from different mental health problems, we both had issues with eating sometimes and on a morning such as this, we all had more energy to replace than usual.

With our new found energy, we were ready to tackle the day ahead. There were things to do, preparations for the two of them heading home in just over a week and preparations for Adam’s birthday in a few days time. Everyone was feeling good today, so that made things easier. Last night’s passionate activities had led to everyone being productive and things were starting to look brighter for the weeks ahead.

Next Chapter =>

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phanfluff #phan fluff #tw #tw; ed #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmateau #fanfic #waiter!phil #ed #someday

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bxebxee · 7 years

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hey guys, you can blame @daeguk @94hixtape and @joondaily for this! can you believe I have a categorical need to insert too much context for simple things? Occam’s razor? Don’t know her! (also, this whole thing is a cliché but I love clichés)

You’re not exactly sober at 2:30AM when you text your boyfriend to come pick you up from frat party #278. Actually, the text probably reads something like “cone oickme op0” but thankfully, Jungkook knows how to interpret your drunk typos at this ungodly hour of the night. There’s nothing after that text, and he’s grateful that you at least left him with the address before you went out tonight.

He’s greeted with the smell of beer and vomit when he steps into the house. It’s enough to send his stomach churning from Memories of Bad Decisions 2016. Maybe a year ago he’d be into this, but he’s (finally) had his Junior Year Awakening even if you’re not there yet. It’s okay though because he could be patient for you. After all, you had been more than patient waiting for him.

“Thought you weren’t coming!” Mingyu is red-faced and heavy when he collides into Jungkook’s shoulder in a half-hug.

“I’m here to pick up my girlfriend. Know where she is?” Jungkook asks, holding his breath for dear life. Mingyu tries hard to remember because he really wants to help out his bestest buddy in the whole wide world, but he’s beyond drunk, and Jungkook doesn’t want to make his friend think too much in this state. “It’s okay buddy,” he murmurs, patting his unfairly-tall friend. “I’ll find her.”

He navigates his way upstairs towards the second floor, gingerly knocking and opening doors in an attempt to find you, and walks into no less than three, separate instances of frat party hookups. Jungkook’s too tired and preoccupied with you to find any of it interesting. Luckily, he finds you relatively quickly as you exit a bathroom looking a lot less drunk than he expects.

“You came,” you smile, eyes a little gone, but still walking in a straight line. You give him a hug, loving the way he smells normal and safe.

“Of course I did,” he mumbles into your hair.

“Jennie’s getting boned by that guy from her biology class, so I didn’t have a backup ride,” you explain with a cringe, “And I didn’t bring money…” You feel small and irresponsible admitting that to Jungkook, but you’ve learned to be upfront with your shortcomings instead of hiding them in the hopes he wouldn’t think less of you.

Jungkook only kisses your forehead, eyes softening as he takes in your embarrassed state. “You can always call me. You know I’ll be there for you.”

“Can we go to your place? Mom thinks I’m at Jennie’s.”

“You’re 0 for 3 tonight, you know that?” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you out of the hell house. Although he lives with a few other roommates, they’re a lot more understanding of you sleeping over than your mother could ever be of you coming home in this state.

Jungkook, Mister Boyfriend of the Year himself, helps you into his car, taking care not to let your head bump on anything made out of metal or fiberglass, and buckles your seatbelt for you.

“You’re so attractive,” you smile, hearts practically pouring out of your eyes.

“I know,” he hums, shooting you a quick smile before shutting the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I’m serious,” you continue as he starts the ignition, completely in love with the way he plays Knight in White T-Shirt. “You’re so hot, and I’d give anything to blow you right now.”

Jungkook wets his lips and puts the car into drive. “Go to sleep,” he tells you, “I’ll carry you out when we get there.”

“Don’t wanna,” you smirk because you’re wide awake, and you’re not that drunk. You spot a new, unopened bottle of water in his cupholder. It’s cold too. Your heart sings as you unscrew the cap to take a sip because he totally put that there for you. And you decide right then and there that Jungkook is so getting laid tonight – or at the very least, sucked.

It’s a short drive back to the place he shares with a few of his friends, and Jungkook is the lucky one with a room all to himself – very convenient for when you want to fuck. You can’t keep your hands off him as he unlocks the door, pressing your entire front into his arm with a flirtatious giggle.

Jungkook shushes you before entering. “They’re sleeping,” he warns you. You roll your eyes and make a motion with your hands like your zipping your lips and throwing away the key. To your credit, you manage control yourself from using your Outdoor Voice until he’s shut the door of his room behind him. Then all bets are off because you’ve wanted to give him the biggest Thank-You blowjob since he picked you up at the frat house.

“You are drunk,” he moans quietly into your mouth when you pull him in roughly for a kiss, not caring too much that you taste like the bitter aftertaste of vodka and fruit juice. It’s a nice taste on you.

You don’t respond immediately, preferring to enjoy the feeling of his arms holding you and the sturdy, muscular planes of his chest. Sometimes it really paid to have a boyfriend as into physical fitness as Jeon Jungkook, even if he did nag at you to eat healthier. You kiss him for a few, blessed seconds more until he pulls away.

“Wash your face, and go to sleep,” Jungkook says, patting you on the head as if you’re some kid. “The cleanser you got me is really good.”

“I don’t wanna sleep, I wanna suck on your cock,” you reply per your usual bluntness. “I’m not that drunk. Most of it’s fading anyway.” That’s partially true because you’re nowhere near shit-faced, but the buzz is still very strong.

Jungkook looks at the clock and it’s just past 3AM. He’s already fucked.

“I wish you’d feel like giving me a blowjob at a more reasonable hour,” he sighs, kissing your neck in begrudging thanks. “Twenty four whole hours in a day and you choose 3AM.”

Your eyes flutter when he drags his teeth on you. “Does that mean it’s a no?” Jungkook’s hand reaches around to grope your ass.

“It’s a yes,” he answers, “But next time…”

You smile brightly - a real, honest-to-goodness, five thousand megawatt smile that has his heart palpitating. Jungkook just has to kiss you then. You run your fingers through his scalp as his mouth slanted over yours works magic. If he kept this up, you’d probably want to fuck instead of just settling for a quick blowjob, so you lead him in flirtatious steps backwards to his bed, playing come-chase-my-lips-if-you-want-it.

Jungkook is sporting a semi by the time you get him to sit on the bed as you peel off his sweats. You adore feeling him warm up your hands, and you tell him just that as you rub your face on his crotch. His thighs twitch underneath your hands as he fidgets.

“You know how much I love doing this, right?” you ask him, mouth running over the cloth covering his penis.

“Then fucking do it already,” he groans, face flushing at the way you look kneeling down in front of him. You watch too much porn for his own health and safety sometimes. He swallows down the wrong pipe when you drool over his briefs, causing a wet spot to appear.

You take pity on Jungkook because it’s already super late, or super early depending on who you asked, and he has a 9AM class. A small stab of guilt touches your heart because you’re not oblivious to everything that happens around you. I’m a bad girlfriend, you acknowledge, Mea fucking culpa. You’d give him a really good suck to make up for it.

Jungkook shivers when you slide off his briefs. Your mouth envelops him almost immediately, and coaxes him into full hardness. You get him worked up too easily, but neither of you are mad about it right now. It’s not long before Jungkook lets a hand get tangled in your hair while you bob your head up and down while quiet sounds of saliva and your swallows fill his ear.

You’re already soaked by the time Jungkook is fully hard in your mouth. If it were a “more reasonable hour” you probably would have just pushed him down and rode him until both of you were satisfied. Still, this isn’t a bad deal when Jungkook looks handsome and perfect while he stares at you in awe. It’s a little pleasing to the ego to have him look so starstruck every time you take him in your mouth.

“Ngh,” he catches a moan that would’ve been too loud. “Oh fuck,” he whispers instead.

Your mouth feels a little tired so you lift off him in squelch, flexing your jaw surreptitiously as you continue jerking him with your hands. Jungkook notices immediately.

“You don’t have to c-continue,” he gasps, “I can finish it off. You must be tired.” As if your heart couldn’t love him more he just had to go saying things like that.

“No,” you say firmly, “Sucking you off makes me happy. It calms me down and helps me sleep. It’s like my personal, penis pacifier.”

Hearing you say that makes Jungkook cringe, but apparently his dick is 1000% into that because he’s harder than ever. He’s torn between laughing or screaming in horror, but heaven help him he’s not limp at all.

“Fuck you,” he groans, hands tightening around your hair as you suck on him once more. “You say the weirdest crap…” It’s not the first time either. You regularly say things that make him pause for a good minute to laugh while fucking.

You make a slight gagging sound with wicked intentions, knowing it how much it gets him off. And like clockwork he hisses, throwing his head back in pleasure. You want to focus on bobbing your head up and down, but the motions actually make you a little nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, taking your mouth off him to lean your head on his thigh. “Just give me a sec?”

“Take all the time you need, baby,” he wheezes because your hand is still wrapped around his dick.

You breathe slowly trying to get that seasick, woozy feeling out of your system. His thigh made a great pillow.

That’s really the last thing you remember when you pass out.

#Drafts #Lmao #Enablers

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