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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Memories

Summary: When Dean discovers the reader has abilities she’s never told him about, he breaks things off. But when she wanders back into the Winchester’s lives a year later, he starts to realize there’s more to the situation than just a few lies...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Case Fic

Word Count: 8,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past abuse/violence, angst, sprinkle of fluff

A/N: Also written for @spndeanbingo

_____

Exactly three years and twenty two days after meeting the Winchesters it happened. Two and a half years of dating Dean. Countless nights in motel rooms, in the bunker, on hunts. Cuts, stitches, laughs. Colds and fevers. Being worried sick over one another and nearly dying for each other more than once.

You finally did it.

Dean saw it.

And he was so angry you didn’t even know how to respond.

You didn’t even say a word as he threw a pair of special cuffs on you. You didn’t mention how you weren’t a demon and the cuffs were useless on you. You didn’t put up a fight when you were sat down in the backseat and he drove the two of you back to the bunker.

You were quiet as you got out of the car, Dean not even saying a word as you headed straight for the dungeon without being told. He slammed the door shut after you as you sighed. You took a seat in the chair and slipped out of the cuffs with a little effort, the door opening not long after.

“How did you do that? The cuffs. You’re a demon,” said Dean as he walked straight over to you.

“I’m not a demon,” you said. “You know it’s me, Y/N. Just-”

“What the hell are you,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you, his hand reaching behind his back and pulling out an angel blade.

“I’m human. I just…” you trailed off as you looked at your lap.

“Just what,” he said, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up.

“Do not treat me like I’m some monster. I saved your life two hours ago. You would be dead if I hadn’t done that. Do not treat me like the bad guy,” you said. He dropped his hand and you saw him hold up the blade.

“Talk.”

“I have certain...abilities,” you said. “One’s I haven’t used in years.”

“So you’ve been lying to me for years then, hm?” he said.

“It’s not the abilities that pisses you off. It’s that I never told you, isn’t it,” you said. Dean cleared his throat and started to walk away, shoving the blade in his back pocket before he returned with crossed arms. “Dean-”

“You saved me, you get a pass. You have ten minutes to load up your stuff and leave,” he said.

“Dean. I-”

“This isn’t a white lie, Y/N,” he snapped, his face hard as you stood up. “This...this is whatever trust we had being over. If I can’t trust you, I can’t be near you. It’s that simple.”

“I never intended to use those abilities ever again. It’s not something hereditary. It would never have been of any consequence to anyone. I’m human. I didn’t tell you-”

“You didn’t tell me. I told you so much shit,” he said, the hard exterior starting to crack. “I told you about hell. About all the shit I did to souls. About the shit that was done to me. I never told anyone that. No one. That’s just one thing. I told you all of it. Every goddamn second and you...you…”

“It’s a very long story,” you said quietly. “A very long and horrible story that I was too scared to ever tell you. So I lied. I lied about a lot.”

“I don’t even know you,” he said. You reached out to grab his hand but he stepped away.

“Dean, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you said, trying to make your voice as soft as possible.

“You already did,” he said dryly, closing his eyes. “Please go. Don’t come back.”

“I-”

“I’m going out. Be gone by the time I get back.”

One Year Later

“Dean, we got another one,” said Sam. You lifted your head wearily, blinking your eyes open to spot Sam looking down at you. “Y/N?”

“‘ammy,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes again. Within a few seconds you were lifted up in his strong arms. You were drifting in and out, suddenly in the backseat of Baby and then in the infirmary in the bunker. After a little while you opened your eyes and sat up, feeling a bandage on your head. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, immediately plopping back down.

“Sit,” said Dean. You looked behind yourself, Dean standing at a table, most of the lights in the room dimmed down. He spun around with a bowl in his hands and a tray of supplies. You recognized the needle and he was ripping off the gauze and stitching up your forehead before you knew it.

You hissed and he said nothing.

“Cas should be back in the morning. He can heal you then,” he said.

He worked quietly for a few minutes, new gauze stuck on your head when he was finished. He quickly left and hit off the light. You sat there until you heard footsteps, Sam poking his head in and carrying a tray with grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“Hey,” he said, setting it down on the nightstand.

“Hi, Sam,” you said.

“You were out most of the day. I thought you might be hungry,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Where did you go? You were here and then one day, you were gone. It’s not like you to screw up a hunt like that either.”

“I broke Dean’s trust,” you said.

“There’s more to it than that,” he said.

“I’m a monster,” you said, laughing dryly when Sam stared at you. “I’m human but I’m a monster.”

“You’re one of the kindest people I know,” said Sam.

“I should go,” you said as you got to your feet. You took a leery step forward and another, Sam grabbing your hand.

“Y/N. What’s going on? You’re not a monster,” he said.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for trying to save me, Sam. But you can’t,” you said. You shrugged out of his grip and took a deep breath. You wound up outside of the bunker, by the bottom of the hill. Your head was spinning but you had enough head start that he wouldn’t find you.

You were staring at the river’s water when you heard a branch snap behind you and a flashlight light up the ground nearby.

“Not a very good hiding spot,” said Dean.

“I thought it was,” you said, closing your eyes, resting your chin on your knees again. “I’m too tired to fight Dean.”

“Good. It means I’ll win then,” he said. He stood next to you, clicking off the flashlight. “You told me about this spot, you know.”

“Once I told you.”

“I used to listen to you,” he said.

“I don’t care about a scar on my forehead, Dean,” you said. “I’m not going back.”

“Rookie move getting caught on a hunt like that,” he said. “I thought you had super powers.”

“There’s a cost to using them,” you said quietly.

“You never said that before.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said.

“What does it cost?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” you whispered.

“Your soul?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “The only thing it ever cost me was you. I’m still a monster and a liar. Using them just reminds me of that.”

“Sammy mentioned you look ill,” said Dean. “I thought you looked scared.”

“You’d be doing me a favor by using that angel blade on me at this point,” you said.

“I’ve never wanted to kill you. I’m not going to kill you. You broke us was all,” he said.

“Yes. I did. So why are you here?” you asked.

“I heard there was a long and horrible story, that it might help me understand,” he said.

“No,” you said. He bumped your shoulder and you looked over at him. He stared and swallowed, glancing out at the water.

“Why not?” he asked.

“The time for that was a year ago. You didn’t want to hear it and I respected that. Respect my decision,” you said.

“Alright,” he said, sliding his hand into your coat pocket. You reached inside and felt the ball shape, narrowing your eyes. “Hex bag. You’re coming back with me.”

“First you tell me to go away. Now you make me come back. Take it out and let me leave, Dean,” you said.

“Not without that story. It’s a dick move, trust me, I know,” he said. You plucked out the hex bag and held it in your hand. It burned up in your hand, Dean wide eyed for a moment. “How…”

“Just let me run away. I won’t bother you ever again,” you said as you walked past him. His hand caught your arm and you closed your eyes, Dean gasping behind you. You heard him fall over as you looked back, his hands tied in front of him along with his feet.

“What…” he asked.

“You can’t get out of that, Dean. It’s the same stuff they use in Hell. When I’m away, I’ll remove it,” you said. You started to walk away and you slapped a piece of the material over his mouth when he shouted. “I’m sorry. It’s for-”

You felt yourself get tackled on the ground, your head knocking back against the paved path.

“Sammy, don’t hurt her,” Dean said and you glanced over, your hold on him gone as he stood up. You tried to push the two of them away but your head hurt too much. You put your hands on it and curled up in a ball. “Call Cas. Tell him we need him home. Now.”

“Morning sunshine,” said Dean as you flickered open your eyes. You looked around, in a dimly lit old room. You touched your head and sat up, Dean setting down his book at the desk. “Cas healed you up. He said your head was looking like a smoothie in there.”

“Felt like it,” you said.

“You should have died like, back at that house on the hunt,” said Dean.

“I know,” you said.

“Apparently you have a ‘dark energy’ about you,” said Dean.

“Yet I’m not in the dungeon...or the bunker,” you said. Dean sighed and looked over your head, your gaze going up to the ceiling. “What is that?”

“Bit of a pain in the ass for me,” said Dean. “We don’t know what you are and that little trick by the river was pretty impressive but that sigil? Anyone with that symbol carved in them ain’t leaving a one mile square area. Two man minimum.”

“You’re holding me here,” you said.

“In this cabin and the surrounding area. I can’t leave either. Not until that gets removed and Cas is the only one that can undo it,” said Dean.

“I can make you undo it,” you said. You stared him down, Dean frowning when he saw you tie his hands together in front of him.

“Go ahead and do that. But I literally can’t undo it. We’re both stuck and Sam and Cas aren’t coming back unless it’s an emergency,” said Dean. You got up from the bed and went down a short hall, Dean following you and out through a front door. The air was chilly and you saw the sun was barely up. You walked and walked and walked until suddenly you bounced off of something. You put a hand against it, Dean sighing behind you. “Unless you’re God level powerful, you ain’t getting out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. Let me go,” you snapped. Dean held up his hands and you sighed, releasing him before you started to walk around.

“Y/N. Cas carved it into our bones. Rowena put the spell up. We are as stuck here as the day is long,” said Dean.

“You can’t make me go back inside,” you said as you sat down and leaned back against the invisible wall.

“I think you’re lying to me again. Something is wrong and you know it. You look sick. You’re weak. You-”

“Go away before I shut your mouth for you,” you said. He nodded and left, going back into the cabin. You sighed and wrapped your arms around your knees. “Castiel if you can hear me, come and take this off of me. Please. I just want to be left alone.”

One Week Later

“What do you want for dinner?” asked Dean as you stared out the window. It’d been raining all day. The cabin was nice and clean, modern and nice. The bathrooms were spa like and you seemed to somehow have internet all the way out in the middle of nowhere.

It would have been a great and peaceful vacation spot if there wasn’t the overwhelming threat in the air that you couldn’t leave.

“Y/N?” asked Dean.

“Whatever you want is fine,” you said quietly, watching the water roll down the panes. Dean walked over and handed you a blanket, running his hand over your head. “You will never get me to talk, Dean.”

“I was angry and I think we both know I had a right to be. But I think we both know I should have given you a chance to explain yourself and I didn’t. We both screwed up. When you’re ready to talk, we will. Until then...we can stay here and learn to be friends again. You’re safe here. You can try to recover from whatever it is that is running you down.”

“You stuck me here so I can’t go on a hunt,” you said. “Didn’t you.”

“That was part of it,” said Dean.

“I’m not weak.”

“You can kick my ass all on your own. With these abilities you have? Pretty sure you win every time without lifting a finger,” he said. “Maybe you’re strong, way stronger than I’ve ever been. But you are sick. I can see it all over your face. You can recover here until we figure out what to do next.”

“I know what to do next but you won’t let me leave,” you growled.

“This isn’t up for debate.”

You turned your head, Dean shoving your arm after a few seconds. He pointed at the tie over his mouth and you shrugged.

“You speaking isn’t up for debate,” you said. He rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, starting to move some pots around.

An hour later he shoved your arm again.

“What?” you said. Dean pointed at the food on two plates. You stood up and went to the table, sitting down and digging in. Dean took a seat across from you, grunting. You slurped down your pasta and stared at him. He scratched at the tie and you went back to eating, his eyes widening for a moment. “It’s not fun having someone control you, is it? Enjoy your Red Special.”

He narrowed his eyes and stood up, going to the bedroom he’d been using and slamming the door shut.

After fifteen minutes and a few washed pots later, you went to the room, Dean sitting on the floor, his eyes red and puffy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you said, removing the tie and kneeling down. He wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I-”

“Red Special,” said Dean. “Red Special. That’s the first step in a Red Special and you know that. I told you all about Hell but I never told you the names of certain things so how the fuck do you know the name of it?”

You got up and tried to leave, Dean on his feet and grabbing your wrist quickly.

“Tell me. You owe me for that just now,” he said.

“Because I’ve gone through a Red Special before too,” you whispered. You shut your eyes and felt Dean’s hands on your shoulders, guiding you back into his room. He sat you down on the bed and told you not to move. He left for a few minutes before you opened your eyes, Dean returning with a sandwich and glass of water for himself. He shut the door and sat down at the head of the mattress, eating quietly as you sighed.

“You went to Hell?” he eventually asked.

“No.”

“...You had to. There’s no way you could survive-”

“I don’t want to tell you, Dean. Don’t make me tell you,” you said. He leaned over and took your hand, lacing your fingers together. You swallowed and shut your eyes.

“Were you...were you going to…” he trailed off as you shook your head.

“No. I could never do that to you. I shouldn’t have done what I did. My head just...it gets dark sometimes. It gets dark more often. The longer we stay here, the bigger the odds that I end up hurting you,” you said.

“Do you think it’s these abilities making that happen?” he asked.

“I know it is,” you said, a crack of thunder overhead.

“Then let’s try to take it away. Bare minimum information. Tell me and Sam and Cas the bare minimum you think we need to know and we’ll save the story for someday later,” said Dean. “I promise.”

Your whole body shuddered and he gave you a smile.

“S’okay. It’ll be okay,” said Dean.

“The torturer’s curse,” you said quietly. Dean tilted his head at you and you gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s called the torturer’s curse. There’s no way to remove it.”

“We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Three Weeks Later

“Hi guys,” you said as Sam, Cas and Rowena walked into the cabin. “I made cookies earlier if you want some.”

“Maybe later. Let’s see if we can get you feeling better first,” said Sam.

“Did you bring the cuffs?” you asked.

“One pair of demonic, witch and curse proof cuffs,” said Cas, pulling them from his pocket. You nodded and tried to relax, shaking your head after a moment. Cas put them on and you saw Dean leave his bedroom, shaking his arms out. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I pissed her off this morning so you know, been fun around here today,” said Dean.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said gently. “We’re gonna get you fixed up and you won’t be feeling any of this bad crap anymore.”

“I hope not,” you said. You took a seat at the table, Rowena and Sam moving around and setting things up. You had to give them some of your blood, the second it was in the bowl your whole body starting to buzz. “Hurry. It doesn’t like that.”

Rowenna threw something in the bowl and a puff of smoke appeared. She said a few words and then looked at you.

“Well?” she asked.

“I don’t feel any…” you said, quickly closing your eyes, everything off. You fell over, passing out for a few seconds.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Dean, shaking your shoulder as you woke up. Your whole body felt lighter. You tried to do something you could before, anything, but none of it seemed to work.

“Hey,” you smiled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Cas put a hand on your head and nodded.

“I don’t sense the energy in her anymore,” he said.

“It’s gone?” asked Dean. You nodded and let out a laugh.

“It’s gone. It’s gone,” you said as they helped you sit up.

“How did you get a curse like that in the first place? That’s very, very dark magic,” said Rowenna as Sam took off your cuffs.

“It was a unique situation. It won’t happen again.”

“She won’t talk about what happened,” said Sam that night in the bunker. You were laying in your old bed, the boys talking in hushed whispers outside your room.

“I’m not pushing her. This curse was fucking with her head for a while and she’s had it who knows how long and she needs a little peace and quiet,” said Dean.

“Dean. The curse she had is not normal. It is old. The book we found the cure in...they only use the curse in something called a Hellscape. No one’s ever seen it in action. How the hell did she get it?”

“I’m guessing she’s been to someplace called Hellscape then, genius. Lay off. She feels like shit. Go find a nice easy hunt for us or something,” said Dean. You heard the door open after a moment and Dean enter, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Need anything sweetheart?”

“Do you ever wish you never existed?” you asked. You felt him move around behind you and lay down, warm arms pulling you into an embrace. “That’s not an answer.”

“Maybe I used to, on bad days sometimes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here though.”

“I’m not sure what the point is,” you said.

“Of life?” he asked as you nodded. “I think you try to leave this place better than you found it.”

“I don’t think that’s why I’m here,” you said.

“Why do you think you are then?”

“To be miserable,” you said quietly. “A vast majority of my life has been a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Then I got out of it when I found you guys and then I fucked that up and I’m back in the nightmare.”

“You’re not,” said Dean, resting his head against your back. “You’re not, I swear.”

“Maybe someday I’ll believe that,” you said as you shut your eyes.

“Y/N. Whatever you’re not telling me...it’s okay. I know it’s big. I’ll be here if you ever decide you want to share it. If not, that’s okay too,” he said.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Hey,” said Sam the next morning at breakfast. “I found a hunt in Norfolk. It looks like a simple demon hunt if you guys want in.”

“Yeah that sounds good,” said Dean as you nodded. You went back to your eggs, closing your eyes. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Never better.”

“I think it’s that gym teacher. I had a bad feeling about him,” said Sam in the motel later that day. “No demon though.”

“Him and that assistant coach are weirdos,” said Dean. “You see the way they were looking at Y/N?”

“They’re not the person you’re looking for,” you said as you changed out of your fed suit, Sam quickly turning away.

“How do you know that?” asked Dean. You sighed and slipped on some jeans and t shirt, plopping down on the bed. “Y/N.”

“Because this is my hometown,” you said. They looked at one another and scrunched up their faces. “I’m not from where I said I was. I lied about a lot. I get it. I went to high school with those guys, that’s why they were looking at me like that.”

“Well it has to be a teacher,” said Sam.

“No it doesn’t. It isn’t. I know exactly who it is,” you said, going to your bag and shoving your gun in your jeans.

“Care to share with the class?” asked Dean.

“It’s my dad.”

“Your what?” he asked. “Your dad is dead.”

“A lie. My mom is but not him.”

“So a demon didn’t kill your parents?” asked Sam. “Or just your mom?”

“I killed my mom,” you said. Both of them shared a look, Dean looking you up and down. “I had my reasons.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, shaking his head. “Ignoring that bombshell, how do you know it’s your dad?”

“He’s the most evil thing in this town,” you said.

“They didn’t...you know,” said Sam.

“Hurt me? Oh, I wish all they’d done to me was hurt me,” you said. Sam swallowed and you saw Dean nod.

“Sammy. Go grab some dinner for us. Please,” said Dean. Sam excused himself but you knew Dean only did it for your benefit. “I’m starting to get the picture.”

“What picture is that.”

“Abusive parents with a kid that ends up having a horrible dark curse on them? I have a feeling you didn’t get that from your hunting days,” he said.

“I’ve had it since I was sixteen. I didn’t turn it on until I used an ability for the first time at eighteen when I got out of here for good. Every time I use them, the darker it got,” you said.

“Your dad do that to you?” he asked. “Curse you?”

“Indirectly. You know who gave me the actual curse,” you said. Dean tilted his head. “Alistair.”

You saw his face go white and you nodded.

“Alistair...you knew…” said Dean.

“I knew him before you did. My parents used to call him Ali when I was little,” you said.

“What?” breathed out Dean. “Don’t tell me...tell me he didn’t go near you as a child. Tell me that psychopath wasn’t near you as a kid.”

“I could but it’d be a lie,” you said. He sat down on the bed and ran his hand over his mouth. “It’s my dad that killed those two girls. I know it. Let’s just go deal with him and move on.”

“We are not ending the conversation there. Alistair? That’s-“

“Minimum information,” you said. “I already told you more than enough.”

“Y/N-“

“You of all people can understand why I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I talked about it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to and I did and you know what? After I did, I felt a little better. I trusted you enough to tell you.”

“Dean,” you said, pacing around the room. “It’s not a trust thing. I’ve never told anyone and if you ever find out the whole truth, not the scraps you know, you’ll never look at me the same. I know I’m broken but you didn’t make me feel like it. You guys never did and I know you’ll see what I really am if you ever hear the truth. I’m sorry but I can’t go through that.”

“So you think I was broken?” asked Dean. You rolled your eyes and he stood up. “Did you lie about that too?”

“Go fuck yourself, Dean,” you said, grabbing your backpack. “I never lied about anything like that. You know what? Thanks for everything but I’m gone.”

You stormed out of there, Dean barely getting to the door by the time you were down the block.

Four Hours Later

“Ouch,” you said as you groaned awake. You were cold and your body instantly recognized the chill. You sat upright, the air leaving your lungs.

It took a moment to realize you were panicking, breaths coming in little sharp jagged beats.

“Y/N,” you heard from the dark side of the basement. The voice sang song and you backed up against the cinderblock wall. You could feel the shirt you had on now and the light cotton shorts, feel the band on your ankle as you watched him step into the light. “Y/N. Relax, honey. Don’t work yourself up.”

“I…” you said, remembering sneaking into the house and then it all going dark.

“You promised that someday you’d come back and kill me. I took precautions and now...we can go back to the way things were,” he said as he knelt down.

“Dad, don’t,” you said, burrowing back into the corner.

“Hunters aren’t as invincible as they say. I’ll make you a deal. You be a good girl and let Dad have a bit of blood to sell off every so often since you have that been to hell thing going for you, and I will leave the townsfolk alone. Hm? How’s that sound?” he asked. “Or better yet, you be good and I won’t have to do that thing you don’t like.”

“Alistair is dead,” you said as you finally found your voice.

“I know. But I can fool your mind into believing it’s with him, feeling all of that. I’ve learned a few things since you’ve been gone,” he said. “So. Good girl?”

Your body shook and he smirked.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the way things were soon enough.”

He stood up and pet your head, walking away before he hit the light outside the door and locked it.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to use your abilities but they were gone.

The Winchesters were your only hope.

It felt like a day had gone by before the door opened. Your father had already paid you one unpleasant visit and you weren’t ready for another.

“Oh shit,” said Dean as the room filled with light. You covered your eyes before you dared expose them to the brightness, Dean rushing over and cupping your cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Me too,” he said. “I forgive you, for all of it. I promise. Let’s get you someplace safe.”

“You can’t cut it,” you said. “You need to break the seal.”

“Do you know how to do that?” he asked.

“You got a knife?” you asked. Dean pulled out a knife and handed it to you. You took a deep breath and held the tip to your foot. You dug into the flesh and sighed. You took the blade and cut into the band, the thing snapping open after a moment.

“What is that?” he asked.

“You can’t run that way,” you said. You stood up and Dean went with you. He helped you walk, pausing when you stopped halfway.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you shakily said, stepping over the midpoint of the room, gritting your teeth as you got to the door. Dean picked you up and carried you past the storage area and up the basement stairs, walking you quietly out to the front step outside.

“Where’s my dad?” you asked.

“Sammy got him,” said Dean. “He’s in the office. I went looking for you.”

“Go check on Sam for me. I don’t trust my dad,” you said.

“If I see him, he’s getting a bullet,” said Dean. You nodded and Dean shrugged off his jacket, putting it over your shoulders before he headed inside. It was warm and smelled like him and you let yourself curl up in the warm safe feeling for a few minutes before you realized Dean hadn’t come back.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stood and looked back at the house. You reached into the pocket of the jacket and pulled out Dean’s spare gun. It wasn’t his normal spare. You looked at it and recognized it as the the other one in the set he’d gotten for you years ago.

You took that as a sign and slowly limped into the house, gun raised as you headed towards the back.

You turned inside and saw your Dad standing by the fireplace, Dean and Sam both knocked out on the floor.

“Winchesters will sell nicely,” he said. “Pieces of course. You will be punished appropriately.”

“No,” you said quietly, pointing the gun. He glanced at you and the weapon flew out of your hands. You were forced down to the floor and you gasped, staring up at him.

“You lose. You always lose,” he said. He grabbed your arm and started to pull you back towards the hall and presumably down to the basement. You caught Dean lazily staring at you. He poked his left side wearily and you reached into his inner left jacket pocket.

The sound of a switchblade opening was deafening in the room, your father looking down just as you stabbed it into his thigh. You pulled it out and then scrambled backwards, your Dad stalking over you.

A gunshot rang out and he dropped to the ground. You rolled away, looking back to see Dean pointing his gun.

“You okay?” he asked.

You got to your feet and walked out of the room, sitting down on the front step. You tucked your head between your knees, a gentle hand on your back a few minutes later.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

“Hey,” said Dean the next morning as you finished off your hash brown by the water. “Neat little diner they got around here.”

“S’good pancakes,” you said, popping the last piece in your mouth.

“You uh, didn’t say much last night. Or this morning.”

“Didn’t feel like talking,” you said, swinging your feet from where you sat on the railing.

“You okay?”

“I feel better but I can’t believe it’s actually over,” you said. “I was always too scared to ever come back here.”

“I get it,” said Dean, leaning back against the railing, staring at the diner. “Talking...helps. Even if you were a pain in the ass about it back then.”

“You know when we met, I was so jealous of you. I really hated you,” you said.

“You did? Must have been my charming personality that won you over,” he chuckled.

“You were so happy and you and Sam...you have someone to love you, always. I know you weren’t happy like most people are but you got to have a little bit, a few moments at least. You guys always had each other and I wanted that so bad. I wish I’d had an older brother like you or a little one or something when I was a kid. You have no idea how screwed up I am, Dean,” you said.

“That’s funny,” he said, turning his head towards your own. “You’re one of the most normal people I know.”

“Dean.”

“I don’t know how or why but you are a good person, Y/N. Your parents from the little I do know were horrible. But you’re good and kind. You’re the opposite of screwed up.”

“I don’t feel like it,” you said.

“You will. Eventually,” he said, smiling softly. “Trust me. I learned from this really hot chick all the best ways to help.”

You glanced down and he moved behind you, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

“I should have told you the truth back then,” you said.

“I should have been less of a dick. It’s okay. Nobody’s perfect,” he said.

“My parents made a demon deal,” you said, Dean shifting around to sit beside you. “You saw that house. My parents were nobody’s when they were younger. They wanted money and power and they met with a crossroads demon. They presented a unique deal. My soul for the deal,” you said. “I was almost two at the time I think.”

“That’s not possible,” said Dean.

“I know. The demon started to walk away when my parents got creative. Ten years from then, I’d go away for five years, with a demon. They could do whatever they wanted to me. The demon wasn’t interested at first but Alistair popped up all excited and said he wanted to test out some new stuff or something and then agreed. I spent my childhood knowing it was coming. Then I went away and lived in the Hellscape for five years. It’s like bringing hell to earth. It was basically this hidden away cabin in the woods. Apparently it can only be done every so often and needs a whole bunch of stuff and I was the lucky participant,” you said.

“Five years in hell or five years up here?” asked Dean.

“Up here.”

“Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes. “How many years…”

“If a month is ten years…” you said. “It wasn’t great. I blocked out a lot. I can’t even remember most of it. It was weird. I remember the pain but the duration is like a really crappy month or something. But yeah, I hung out in basically hell for five years before the deal was up. Alistair though, he liked me. He said I took a long time to break. He-”

“How long.”

“Hundred years,” you said, Dean nodding. “Dean...it wasn’t like what you went through. That was hell. This was his playground. Some days I was left alone.”

“Can I hear more?” he asked.

“So when my time was up, Alistair gave me the curse. He told me all about it, told me it would strip away the human emotions so I wouldn’t feel so bad. He encouraged me to rip my parents to shreds,” you said. “I wanted to too but when I got back home, I turned into the scared little girl again. I pretended to be a normal teenager at school and then home was...bad. But I met this boy. This guy was following me after one of the football games when I was walking home and this boy chased him off. Ricky. He was the gearhead kid and I was a stupid cheerleader and he was kind. He reminds me of you actually. We dated, secretly, and I started to open up and Ricky was so smart and it turned out he was a hunter’s kid.”

“Ricky Norris?” asked Dean.

“How do you…” you trailed off, Dean smiling sadly.

“Ricky was my friend when I was a little kid. It was rare to meet other hunter’s with kids. I didn’t see him much but I knew Ricky. I never heard from him after we were like twelve,” said Dean.

“His dad had stopped hunting. He and Ricky tried to help me. They helped me learn that my parents threats about going back to Alistair were lies, that it was a one time only thing. He taught me how to fight and what a safe home was and I was going to runaway, Ricky and I were during senior year. But he never showed up and I found out he’d been killed by my parents. So I went home and I didn’t think twice about killing my mom. She and my dad hurt the one person who ever loved me so I killed her and I told him next time I saw him I’d get rid of him too. Then I ran and I hunted and I got so low and down and I wanted that feeling of being loved so bad and then bam, you and Sam walk into my life and you suffocated me with it and I love you two more than you’ll ever know.”

“We know. It’s this thing called unconditional love. We know, Y/N and you got it too,” said Dean.

“You know Ricky had to explain that to me? I understood it. I saw it with my friends and their families but feeling it wasn’t something I ever got until I met you. Ricky tried, he did, but I was too scared to feel it the way you’re supposed to,” you said. “And he and his dad wound up dead because of me.”

“Hunters help people, sweetheart. If I know Ricky, me and him would have been fighting over the chance to help you out. Nothing that ever happened was you fault. You were a child. Barely a toddler. You did nothing wrong. Life handed you all the crap at once it seems,” he said.

“I couldn’t even sleep in my room upstairs. It was the pretend room. I was always in that basement,” you said, Dean putting an arm over your shoulders. “There’s so much they did.”

“All those people and things that hurt you are dead and I’m not gonna let anything else hurt you again. Neither is Sammy,” he said.

“I know,” you said, looking at your hands. “We lost a year because I wouldn’t tell you all of this.“

“What’s a year? We got this place, we got forever upstairs. Don’t sweat it. It’s okay,” said Dean. He took one of your hands and held it in his lap. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry I-“

“Stop apologizing. Please,” said Dean. “We’re good. It’s all good.”

You nodded and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“How about we take a little break from hunting, get everyone feeling better,” he said.

“I’d like that,” you said quietly.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

“Guys,” you sighed from the backseat a week later. “Why are we driving to some middle of nowhere town?”

“First off, we live in a middle of nowhere town too. Second, it’s a forty minute drive which is nothing. Third, it’s a surprise,” said Dean.

“I wanted to lay in bed and eat junk food,” you whined.

“We have a feeling you’re gonna like this,” said Sam. You sighed and a few minutes later they pulled up outside of a house. You followed them out of the car, Dean pursing his lips as he walked around Baby.

“So we may have been working a case this week without you knowing,” said Dean. “Yours.”

“Mine?” you asked.

“Your Dad said some stuff after you left that office last week. Tried to bargain us into helping him, before we finished him off,” said Sam.

“He said something that me and Sam looked into. It turns out, he was telling the truth,” said Dean.

“What?” you asked quietly.

“See that house?” asked Dean, pointing behind you.

“Yeah?”

“That’s your house,” said Sam with a big smile.

“I’m not following,” you said.

“That is your house. That is where your parents and brothers live,” said Dean, a smile spreading across his cheeks.

“I don’t…” you said.

“The people you thought were your parents? They stole you at a park to use you for their demon deal. Your real parents are inside,” said Dean.

“Real…” you said, both of them nodding.

“They’ve looked for decades. They ain’t half bad either. Your Dad had a blurry picture of you from your first Wendigo hunt. A little more resources and they might have eventually found you on your own,” said Sam.

“Did you talk to them?” you asked, staring at the house.

“A little. They didn’t believe us at first. I sent them a picture of you and that sealed the deal. They’re good people, Y/N. Whatever you want to do next is up to you, that’s their words,” said Dean.

You turned and headed for the front door, the boys hanging back by the car.

You swallowed as you rang the doorbell, your heart jumping into your throat when you heard someone on the other side.

An older man opened it, a cautious look on his face that turned into a long stare.

“Hi,” you said. He quickly stepped outside and hugged you, picking you up. “You’re my dad?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m your dad,” he laughed. “I’m your dad, kiddo.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, sitting on the back porch a few hours later. “Your mom makes like one of my top ten pies. Ever.”

“I’ll have to send you kids home with one,” she said as she sat back down next to you in the swing seat, your Dad on the other side.

“So what about school? You wanted to be a doctor when you were little,” he said.

“No she didn't. You were obsessed with trying to be a princess,” said your mom. Dean nearly choked on his pie as he started to laugh.

“Watch it Winchester,” you teased. “I uh, I left school and got my GED.”

“Y/N had a rough go of it,” said Dean.

“The people that took you...did they treat you okay?” asked your mom.

You glanced at Dean and took a deep breath.

“I found some people along the way that became my real family,” you said.

“Y/N. You don’t have to tell us. We’re just glad to have you back,” said your dad.

“I’m okay,” you said, smiling at Dean. “I can’t believe you had four boys.”

“Well the twins were a surprise,” said your dad. “Never had a girl though aside from you.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, Dean polishing off another piece and looking at your mom.

“Does he want more?” she whispered.

“It’s Dean. He always wants more pie, mom.”

“Hey,” said Dean that night as you wandered into the guest room at your parents house. “Was today good?”

“Very,” you said. “I’m not giving up hunting but knowing I have this is incredible.”

“You’ve had a rough go of it. Sam and I wanted to give you your family back,” said Dean as he sat down on the bed and got down to his boxers.

“Dean,” you said, crawling behind him and giving him a hug. “You gave me a family a long time ago. It just got bigger today is all.”

“We love you. We wanted you to know you have more than us though,” he said.

“The Winchester’s have always been enough. I’m so incredibly lucky I have you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “You gave me so much, Dean. I’m so happy to have met my parents and brothers but I’m a Winchester. I’m always going to be that.”

“You have choices now,” he said.

“Yeah. I know what I pick. Same thing as always,” you said. He smiled and cupped your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. “Thank you for today and how sweet you’ve been all week. I’ve been pretty awful to you lately and I never took care of you at all.”

“You were cursed and scared. I thought I told you to stop apologizing,” said Dean, brushing his thumb over your face. “I am okay. You can take care of me too but it’s give and take and I’m good with giving right now. You still need to heal. It’s only been a week. So let’s take a few days and get to know your family. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, Dean swinging his legs up onto the bed and giving you another kiss. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

_______

#spndeanbingo #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #one shot #dean winchester #dean x #dean winchester x reader #spn one shot

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seokahwrites · 3 years

Text

growing pains

2.5k

back to masterlist

pairing.

| high school graduate! min yoongi x high school junior! reader

summary.

| people always said you must let go of what you love, and you finally understand what it means.

tags.

| i am so sorry; this comes from a PERSONAL trauma; i love writing angst; blond yoongi supremacy; ykw min yoongi supremacy in general; reader is emotionally mature asf; reader is girlboss; you could say this could be canon/irl?

a/n.

| sorry for all my nuisance readers that are waiting for the next chapters :P IDK WHEN IMMA PICK THAT UP AGAIN. but i present this min yoongi angst that made me very happy to write, tbh came close to tears while writing it. sorry if the writing is kinda everywhere, hope yall like it tho <33 as always thank u for the massive support and love,, love u all

you weren’t quite sure where all the time went. one day you were brushing your teeth for your first day of school, then boom, you’ve finished your third year of high school. it’s similar to how just yesterday you were helping a tiny kid pick up his soiled cd’s and backpack from a puddle and eleven years later you’re watching him graduate.

well, you didn’t get to actually see yoongi graduate since you were too busy making preparations for the night, but that’s besides the point. tonight had to be perfect.

it is goodbye after all.

who knew that the inseparable min yoongi and y/n l/n would ever have to pull away from each other this way. that little shit better appreciate all the spine bending effort you put into making the spot so amazing — not that it wasn’t great before.

with a literal pat to the back and your hands on your hips, you look around the roof with an uncontainable grin, the flashes of purple and blue from the string lights reflected on the gloss of your eyes, every inhale was overtaken with the smell of coffee seeping from the ice cream tubs and a warm seat on the patio couch awaited, along with fuzzy blankets galore.

you’ve outdone yourself this time.

your hands lean against the cold stone at the edge of the terrace and your eyes wandered to the city that laid beneath your feet, from the green hills at the centre of it all to the luminescence of the glass buildings, there wasn’t a single droplet of air that didn’t feel like home.

tap, tap.

speaking of home, you hear familiar soft footsteps from the staircase, snapping you from your little daze and guiding your way to the entrance, your jazz hands in the air and a smile on your face. god, he was gonna love it.

“surprise!”

yoongi reacts a moment too late, his head snapping up and his graduation cap almost falling from his head. the boy was clad with a blue gown, he looked so mature for a mere second — but it was yoongi after all. his eyes widen before his peach lips make a silent “oh,” the entirety of his gums and teeth making an appearance along with the plumping of his cheeks. your heart falters for a moment at the sight, even worse when his eyes disappear into crescent moons that were surely stolen from the sky.

min yoongi looks pretty. not only that, but min yoongi was ecstatic.

“wow,” his head looked from left to right and top to bottom, “the spot looks great.”

you follow him with tiny steps and once you’re close enough to the couch, you push yoongi onto the plush seat, heading to the cooler and grabbing the ice cream, “i just put a few lights and blankets to be honest,” you take a seat beside him and he covers the both of you with the stack of blankets, “it wasn’t a lot of trouble, really.”

yoongi throws away his graduation cap and wiggles out of the flimsy gown, brushing his fingers through his platinum hair and taking a deep breath before snatching the spoon from your hold, “it’s still perfect.”

come on, y/n. pull yourself together. you tell yourself, but it’s hard when yoongi of all people is sitting beside you under the moonlight, stuffing his mouth with ice cream and glowing.

your memory isn’t quite clear as to when exactly did yoongi stop existing to you but glowing, instead. there’s so many moments to remember.

perhaps it was actually the very first moment you laid eyes on him. your rubber boots were muddy and your yellow raincoat was absolutely drenched, no puddle escaped from your stomps. but just as you were a few houses away from yours you see a figure laying beside a puddle and you realise that maybe that person did not want to be laying down in the cold rain.

and all it took was for you to pick up a kid’s shit from a pool of dirty water to meet min yoongi and shortly after, you were practically attached at the hip.

or it very well could be the night before your big sister moved away, your sobs must’ve escaped through the open windows because min yoongi was knocking at your door in no time — the signature two fast knocks and two slow ones. you were only an 11 year old who had never experienced such a change, and it only dawned upon you that night.

yoongi stayed with you for hours on end until you fell asleep on his lap, still with trembling breaths, but your mind eventually steered away from the fact you weren’t going to annoy your sister before going to school every morning anymore — she can’t put up with you during college — and it focused on yoongi’s cold fingers stroking through every strand of your hair ever so delicately and how warm he actually felt.

and there you were, the same kids with your head on his shoulder only this time, he was the one leaving.

“what’s up with you?” he asks as if he had read your mind.

you pull your hood over your head and you smile a bit for whatever reason, “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

he flicks your forehead, the fucker. the abuse makes you sit up, glaring at him with incredulous eyes and you’re about to say a profanity but he beats you to it, “we need to talk about it, y/n.”

and it pains you how nonchalant he sounds.

you slap your hands to your knees and purse your lips, “fine.”

yoongi finally puts down the ice cream — only a spoon of it left. “we both knew this was coming since freshman year, y/n.”

you scoff, as if knowing a goodbye was coming makes it any easier. “that doesn’t make it better.”

his hand makes its way to yours, placed on top of your fist, that melts into an open palm, with utter ease. still, you pull away, “please, don’t do that.”

and you wince at your own tone. it wasn’t like it’s yoongi’s fault that he’s moving away forever. or maybe it was.

it was unfair of you to say, but the weight on your chest had to have a reason, someone to blame. as yoongi’s best friend, of course you love him more than anything in the world and you’ll always support whatever decisions he needs to make to properly follow his dreams. but as the person that plays with the line of friends and more with yoongi, you almost want to beg him to stay. to stay so he could — for lack of a better word — like you, now isn’t that selfish.

yoongi blinks slowly, “we’ve talked about this y/n.”

ah, of course you have. you’ve talked about whatever the fuck this was several times, some of them were in between your interlaced fingers, others resided in the silence as you slept in the same bed and a lot of them echoed from your bitter words. but, once again, is that supposed to make things better?

the day you told him what you really felt for him is crystal clear in your memory, not only for the painful pubescent confession but yoongi’s own news he needed to share. perhaps your relationship was always ill-fated, yoongi had a scraped knee while you reeked of rainwater and you uttered an i love you while yoongi announced he couldn’t stay by your side. the irony.

your eyes are glassy with unspilled tears when you look up at him. why were you so weak?

“stop acting like it isn’t hard on me too,” he sniffles and shuts his eyes with more force than necessary. oh.

you bite your lip and look away at the guilty sight, afraid of what may come out if you don’t. but, if he does know of the turmoil you feel, why is he still insisting?

cold fingers meet your jaw, pushing you with that same delicacy from years ago until you meet his own concealed bloodshot eyes, “you’re not the only person who’s been in—,” he stumbles with his words, “—liked the other for the last decade, you know?”

why did he have to say it out loud? he’s only making it sound real.

maybe, it was actually your fault. if you hadn’t decided to tell yoongi of the butterflies in your stomach, you could’ve pushed them away and let the fantasy live as fiction. but no, you told him about the damn critters and they’ve been eating away at your core ever since, desperate to come out because min yoongi liked you and he was right in front of you ready to be liked right back, yet you could never reach him.

min yoongi was fishing stars from atop jupiter and you were still dancing on saturn’s rings.

you lean into his touch, placing your own hand on his and chuckling at his cheesy line, “that’s just how lucky i am,” and your attempt at humour makes the corners of yoongi’s mouth lift just a little bit.

his thumb glides on the skin it could reach, “so can’t we just have a night like every other one we’ve spent together?”

classic min yoongi.

but as to yourself, you were sick of ignoring things. you were tired of how your heart throbbed whenever you’d fit your face into yoongi’s neck so effortlessly, as if it was only natural; tired of your cheeks along with the rest of your skin burning with every thoughtless caress and sweet nothings he would whisper at the dead of night; and you were tired of your eyes prioritising yoongi’s soft lips over every other feature on his face and how much you yearned to touch them with your own — of how you’d always catch his gaze mirroring yours.

a person could only take so much and you were bursting at the seams already.

still, you only nod.

the silence became unbearable by the minute, even with your head on his shoulder and your hands in his pocket, there was so much that wanted to get out — yoongi would only need to say the right wrong words for all of it to come spilling out. so you speak first, making sure that doesn’t happen.

“it’s gonna be weird without you, y’know?”

you feel his cheeks puff up, subtle as ever “of course,” he squeezes your pinky out of pure habit, “who’s gonna make home cooked meals for me if you mom ain’t around,” and you wish you could white out the blue in his words.

“i swear—,” you chuckle and cross your arms, lifting your head to stare back at the constellations, “—she probably cried more than me when i told her you were leaving.”

before the words could echo back in your head, your eyes are back on yoongi and the boy is staring at the floor with a flood threatening to break out from his eyes.

you just had to open your mouth, huh.

your mouth forms incoherent noises in a miserable attempt to make up for your little slip up, but to no avail. yoongi only shakes his head and looks at you, the way his shoulders slumped exposing that he was trying just as hard to pull it together, maybe even harder.

“me too,” he utters, and you don’t fully understand what he means by that.

a bubble seems to form around the both of you, locking you in your own little world with yoongi, as it always happens when you let him entrance you for a moment too long, and in those seconds that spread to hours you just want to float away, you’re not sure where to but the gloss in his eyes are enough to guide the way.

“y/n,” don’t, “i’m gonna mi—.”

pop.

“please don’t,” you hate the venom that seeps from your tongue, “please stop, yoongi.”

and you want your tears to come thundering over your cheeks, for the red you’re holding in to shoot out from your heart, just so you could show him an inch of what you’re feeling. but you can’t. you shouldn’t.

yoongi’s soft eyes sharpen, “why don’t you want me to say it?”

no, no. that’s a lie.

of course you want to hear him say it. you want yoongi’s voice to sing every word of affection he has to tell you, you want to be wrapped with the smell of yoongi’s embrace, for him to whisper every sin for only your ears to hear and you want nothing more than to remain in every moment you’ve spent with him.

you look down, “if you say things out loud, they might come true.”

he races to grip your hands over his lap, “but it is.”

it is, it is, it is.

you blink away your tears before gazing back at your little piece of the sky, a smile never present in his pouty lips, yet you still read every pore of his skin like the back of your hand.

“yoongi,” you despise your sniffling tone, “let’s face the facts. you’re gonna be hundreds of kilometres away in a big city, i’m gonna be stuck in our little neighbourhood for who knows how long and all we can do is try to forget each other,” your voice breaks, “what could it possibly lead to?”

as you said those words, the reality of it all was coming to hit you with a second wave. the crack of what you both hoped to be was audible in the sounds of you settling back into yoongi’s hold, the silent sobs — that you convinced yourself came from the moon and stars, not from your min yoongi — even more so from the silence that came after your speech.

you could’ve asked yoongi to stay, of course you could have — you wanted it more than anything else. but you knew that he would stay and change his mind in a heartbeat if it was for you, and you couldn’t allow your boy to throw away his dreams for something as meaningless as love — or at least, you try to convince yourself it is.

perhaps yoongi would move on, he would find another person and start a family, have three children and a beautiful house and he’d be living off from all the music he gave to the world all this years ago, just like he always dreamed. perhaps you’d only be a fond memory he would look back on from time to time whenever he’d laugh at old memories after a few drinks with his beloved.

or maybe — and dare you say, hopefully — yoongi would never move on, he would work around the clock with the thought of coming back into your arms and nothing else. he would never leave his cheap tiny studio, only stepping outside during the rise of the moon and he would look at the stars, remembering that a person in daegu is in love with him with all they’ve got and that would be enough to keep him company. because you know for a fact, for the way your heart beats at the mere thought of him, that you would never stop loving min yoongi.

at the present, side by side breathing is more than enough.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

and he truly is.

“i can die happy.”

should i make a permanent taglist? idk TELL ME IF U WANNA BE IN IT

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uhhhhyandere · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing requests how about omegaverse with omega Light and alpha m!reader who's a kickboxer. The reader's and Light's families are close and have high expectations of the two eventually marrying in the future, but the reader has no interest in being tied down and focused solely in his training and career. Lately he's noticed that some of his belongings have gone missing, like an old shirt or his boxing gloves, strangely enough the medication to help control his ruts keep (1/2)

running out quick, but writes it off as him being absentminded. One day he's forced to visit Light at his house and catches his scent forcing the reader into a rut, mating with Light all the while unaware they're under surveillance by the task force but Light finds this highly amusing. Now with mating bite and possibly pregnant, Light is tied to the reader no matter what now. (2/2)

we ain't gonna talk about how this has been sitting in my inbox for more than a year and ain't gonna talk about how i’ve almost had it done for more than a year, then forgot until i was digging through my drafts. no comment. i stink. i know, okay?!?!?!?!?!? AAAAHHH but i had fun finishing it so that’s what matters!!

6.6k words m!reader x light :)

warnings: smut! light is a.bottom and that's a hill i’ll die on.

Sweat, blood, and tears. It’s all you’ve ever known, and it’s all you’ve come to love and live for. The adrenaline of the ring, the quick, decisive movements, the thrill of winning, and the lessons learned from losing, it all accelerates your pulse and excites your nerves. Hard work never daunted you. You’ve learned to keep pushing, to run when you can’t walk, to fight when you’re knocked down, and to do whatever it took to come out on top. Your alpha blood craved the victory.

5am runs followed by strength training, then workouts after school was a routine you forced into your system. With your lifestyle, however, there was no other option. Strength. Flexibility. Reflexes. You needed everything to be successful. At the forefront of that “everything,” was commitment. There were things you had to miss because of training: family dinners, parties, club meetings, and more you’ve gotten an earful about for missing, but at least your family understood that boxing was your livelihood, no matter how much they were against it. It wasn’t some hobby you were going to drop when you got older. You wanted to make a career out of it, to be able to fight until you have to retire.

Of course, that was the plan. There were things, expectations, that naturally got in the way. It wasn’t ideal when your only son wanted to be a boxer of all things. How dangerous, risky, a dream you only have as a child. Well, fuck them, you said. Your dream was going to be your reality, and you couldn’t care less who or what stood in the way. Hard work perseveres in the end. You just had to focus. To get distracted by anything was the risk of losing that future.

The Yagami’s were a prime risk of losing that future. Your families were intertwined from before you were even born. Friends through their years of schooling and beyond. They married in the same year, moved into houses on the same block, and, of course, had their oldest child in the same year. It was like clockwork from there on out, a script to be naturally followed through the course of time. It only helped all the better when you were born an alpha and Light an omega.

Light’s and your baby pictures were taken together. Vacations were taken together. Chief Yagami pulled strings at school so you were put into the same class, assigned the same tutor, put in the same prep course, and the same private academy. At that point, you were almost sure your parents wanted to be there when you two undoubtedly mate. Your paths were carved to be identical, linked to the very end, yet so you saw them as so incredibly different.

However, you and Light were fundamentally different people. He was not a friend you chose, but someone who’s just been there. A constant, a tick on the back of your neck that left you with no choice but to live with its existence. You’ve come to accept the reality that he’s going to be there for the near future, the far future if your parents had anything to say about it. They and the Yagami’s had a matching plan, but while they were audibly planning your wedding, you were conniving a scheme of your own.

The Koyanagi Invitational. Held at the beginning of January, this tournament-style invitational welcomes only the best of the best in fighters from all over Japan. The winners almost always see themselves on the international stage. It’s a nationally televised program, and you were only one win away from securing your spot in round one after your championship match for your region coming up soon.

Your time is always dedicated to your passion, but now more than ever. Your trainer, an alum of the invitational himself, has allotted the time you desired to train in the gym at the expense of his other lessons. The trade-off was after your championship, you had to find another place for the time it will take to make up all the canceled lessons with the clients you were replacing for the time being, which shouldn’t be hard to do if—when you win the regional championship. Therefore, your time was acutely cut short for academics, social events, and everything else that was not training, but those were the sacrifices you warned everyone you would be making to come this far and reach even farther. You were not even keeping track of Kira at this point. Even that was on the backburner. What? Were they going to kill you for missing dinner with the Yagami’s for the third time this week?

“Y/N,” your name was called. Through the surging endorphins of your body, you were able to feel good enough to answer the call from your father from the sweat you were yet to shower off. You’d rather reek on the way home rather than use the gym showers. Dropping your bag from your shoulder, you rub the muscle there as you approach the full table. “You were supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago.” You sighed, dropping your hands back to your sides. “Yeah, sorry, dad. Lost track of time. Coach was fixing my style again. Swarmer has always been good for me, I think. Just refining it.” You didn’t miss the shared look between your parents.

“Well, it’s a good thing we scheduled this later because we knew you’d do this,” your mother says, low heat in her voice. “Get cleaned up and be down here in no more than ten minutes.” Biting your tongue, you nodded, making eye contact with Light as you turned to grab your bag and follow her request. “You could at least put jeans on.” You weren’t even down the hallway when your mother spoke again. This time, you were not being civil for the company’s sake and didn’t bother concealing your groan.

“It’s not like we have company over.” The Yagami’s were over for dinner or you were over there at least four times a week. It would be odder to have dinner with just three instead of seven (or five, if you missed due to training or Soichiro because of the Kira case) people around the table. You pulled out the chair they left for you beside Light and lowered yourself into it, immediately taking another drink of water from the gallon water bottle you lugged around. “Or, at least, no one new.”

“Y/N—,”

“No, he’s quite right. There’s no need to dress up for us. We’re practically family already.” Mrs. Yagami, your savior, laughed. “Light just always does,” which is wildly true. Light had a tendency to always look presentable and put-together no matter where the setting was. Late-night study sessions and other in-house cases were the only occasions you would see him clad in anything comfortable. Then, there was you, in your sweats at all times except when you were forced into your uniform at school.

Luckily enough, the comparison game was not thrown between the two of you too often. It wasn’t necessary when your parents were convinced you would mate and live the rest of your lives together. An unspoken truth that simmered in the air whenever you all got together.

“How is your training going anyway, Y/N?” Soichiro was an odd sight at the table anymore. The Kira case was an equivalent time commitment to your championship training, (except he gets paid to almost die. You get into fights willingly) and it was more and more late nights on the investigation team.

Especially now, of all times, with the dead FBI agents from the United States the news mentioned one morning, he was busier than ever.

“Gets harder and harder, Mr. Yagami. Though, I’m keeping up. With the championship on the seventh, I can’t afford not to. The guy’s a monster from what I’ve heard. Tomorrow we’re watching his match from the semi’s.” Your mother cleared her throat.

“Soichiro, sorry. We just prefer not to talk about business at the dinner table. Our son has a tendency to talk about fighting at all hours of the day, so we cherish this time where we don’t have to hear about it.” Ignoring her blatancy, you took another drink.

“Well, I like to hear about it.” It was Light who spoke up. “It’s his passion, with all due respect. Do you not see it when his eyes light up when he describes his feelings or explains his regime? He’s someone with an innate gift he wants to pursue. Not to mention the strength he possesses to live this lifestyle. If anything, you should be proud to hear him talk about it, the time he dedicates. It’s nothing short of awe-striking, what he can do.” Your skin feeling unbearably hot, you blinked a few times and hoped to hide from the admirable line of defense Light brought up for you. Peeking from your pit of embarrassment, you met his eyes, bright and unabashed, and you smiled a silent thank you to him. He, without moving a single facial feature, accepted it.

Instead of seeing the literal meaning of his words, you knew your parents saw the underlying tone of them. Their son being stood up for by Light Yagami. It must mean Light cared for him. Another step towards the future they have been quietly planning, so they smiled, and you wondered if Light saw through it just as easily as you did.

He and you never sat down and had a conversation about your parents’ expectations. Whether it was reluctance or the pure awkwardness of it all, it never came up when you were together. It didn’t matter, though, because if you could avoid it, which you could easily with your training, you would. At all costs. You did not have the time for that and would not for anytime soon.

After dinner, Light and you were pushed to do the dishes, as you always were if you were present. He washed, and you dried and put them away. In the midst of the sink running and the clinking of dishes, you found yourself with the desire to properly thank him outside of the small look you gave him before, but thought twice, three times about it at risk of looking too thankful and soft. “Just say it,” he spoke instead.

“What?”

“You look like you have something to say. You’ve glanced at me twenty-three times in the past seven minutes.” Despite the small grin on his face, you still couldn’t help but consider saying “it’s nothing,” which he would undoubtedly disbelieve, and let it blow over. Knowing him, though, he would twist it out of your system anyway, like a lawyer rinsing the truth in a cross-examination.

“Just—uh thanks, man. For before.” Light laughed, scrubbing in the curve of a bowl.

“You don’t have to thank me for something like that. You’re the type of person society needs, and to have someone talk down at you for being excited about your dreams is wrong. I was only doing the right thing, and I’d do it again.” You avoided his gaze as he explained, suddenly invested in drying the utensils one-by-one.

“Well, yeah, means a lot.”

Was Light’s smell always so nice? Yes, you weren’t going to fool yourself that this was the first time you’ve noticed. You’ve been nearby during one of his heats, and you remember nearly falling out into your own primal senses because of it. If it weren’t for your own reluctant self-control, you’re not sure where that night would have gone to. You’ve managed to deduce his smell to be some sort of chestnut, brown sugar mix. Intoxicating, but undeniably would foster an unwarranted reaction from you if you were too close during those times.

Not to mention that you’ve noticed Light’s good looks sporadically throughout the past. While he plays tennis, focuses on a particularly confusing calculus problem, biting his lip and twiddling the pencil between his digits, or just smiles at you from across the hall at school, you’ve acknowledged it, but never let it grow to anything else. You didn’t want to. Sure, he was handsome, but you had a million other things to focus on than to be tied down by any sort of relationship. Besides, if worse comes the worse, your self-control is unmatched from your countless hours of training. No single individual could sway you from your path.

“It’s really nothing. Like I said, don’t mention it.” And you didn’t plan on it. Light stayed to finish up homework as well as teach you a good two-thirds of the material before telling you he was heading out on his short walk home after you returned from a quick bathroom break. It was getting close to the bedtime that enabled you to get your full eight hours before 5am.

The closer the championship came, the less you saw of people. You ate breakfast and left earlier, came to school right from the gym, (yes, you resigned yourself to shower in the disgusting stalls) went back to the gym after school, and got home later. It gave you less time to do homework or hang out with anyone that wasn’t your trainer. Good thing you had your good friend Light who insisted it was fine to stay late in your room and catch you up on what you were behind in.

It only made sense, then, with your exponentially increasing schedule that things started to become hectic. Of course, you were missing more of what you usually missed, but most recently you’ve begun to misplace things. A t-shirt you knew you had in the drawer, your go-to nighttime sweatshirt, a pair of shorts. You figured some might be at the gym or dropped in your transit from one place to another, but your sweatshirt never left your house and you sure as hell never left it in the hamper to get washed.

It was just your busy schedule, you and your parents agreed. You needed to step back and relax if you were beginning to lose things. Plus, you were hardly sleeping with your anxiety building for the coming fight and the late nights you were practically forcing Light to pull with you.

“You don’t have to do this with me all the time,” you mentioned one night. “If I’m messing with your schedule or anything, I know it’s probably super inconvenient for you to do this so often. I never asked—.”

“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “It’s no trouble. I offered, after all. It’s not like I see you much outside of these sessions anyway. Even at school, you seem to always be in a hurry. I’m actually pretty worried about you. How much sleep are you getting? Are you eating enough? Drinking?” You waved him off.

“You know I always do. I have to eat and drink enough to do this in the first place. I don’t carry a gallon bottle around for the gains, after all.”

“And your sleep?” You glanced towards your window.

“Needs work these days.” A small whack resounded off your temple. Surprised, you watched the weapon be flipped between the assaulter’s fingers in front of you. “What was that for?”

“Don’t be stupid. I get you want to work hard for your match coming up but killing yourself with all this hard work and no rest will undoubtedly lead to your defeat. It’s common sense. You should know that more than anyone.” You set your pen on the desk, the fatigue weighing your eyes down. “Even your dark circles are even showing.” You relaxed your shoulders. “You don’t have to put up your tough guy front with me.”

“You don’t have to put up your perfect student façade either.” You paused. “Sorry. Uncalled for. You’re right, as usual. I love it though. I want to be the best, and this guy I’m coming up against? He’s a maniac. This is the first tournament he hasn’t gone below the belt or spit on an opponent. Who knows when he’ll start, though? I have to be quick. This fight cannot last long, or this guy will injure me. I can’t afford that if I’m moving on to Koyanagi.” You laughed. “You’re really right. You know I’ve been losing stuff left and right? Old shirt here, that black sweatshirt I wear all the time? Gone. No idea. Some tape in my bag. It’s like some leprechaun is stealing my stuff.”

“They’ll turn up. Maybe if you get a proper night’s sleep tomorrow and train only in the afternoon, you’ll remember where you left them.” You groaned, stretching in your spot and allowing yourself to slouch against the wall you leaned against and to shut your eyes. “Hey, at least finish this last problem and sleep in your bed.”

“Don’t want to. I’ll sleep right here.”

And you did, because Light Yagami was too weak to lift you up.

A sore back and neck now healed, you found yourself wrapping your hands for the long-awaited match in the locker room. Heart already beginning to pound, you tried to find solace in the silence around you, but all you could hear was the rhythm against your ribs.

“You ready, kid?” Your coach asked from the entranceway. “Two minutes.” You nodded, reaching into your bag and finding odd space in there. No fucking way. Though your old boxing gloves were present, your current ones were not. God, another thing my dumbass lost. There was no time to sit and shit on yourself. I just lost the fucking match for myself, damn it! You didn’t think about it long before you exited the locker room and into the blur of voices and music on the other side. Your opponent stood on the other side of the room, taller and wider than yourself. “Size ain’t nothing kid. Put your confidence into work too here. Don’t forget the mental part of the fight, ya hear me?”

You didn’t. In the crowd, you saw your family and the Yagami’s looking either nervous or excited. The camera crews around swung cameras across the area of the mat. As your name was announced and you entered the ring, the lights began to move around you. The crowd cheered and yelled in excitement. Your coach encouraged you from behind you.

Sweat, blood, and tears. It is what has gotten you this far, and it will continue to bring you higher. You did not train and work to lose right where you should be beginning. As your opponent entered from the other corner, the familiar sense of adrenaline rushed your veins. Yes, you could do this.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

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Five

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Three

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One

K.O.

You woke up in your bed the next morning. A white ceiling, white walls beeping a steady heartbeat around you. Then, it all came coming back. The elbow, all the dirty moves used against you pounded in your skin. Out of everything, your head ached the most. Tiny explosions cascaded your brain as you rolled your head along your pillow.

“You’re awake!” It was your father. “Your mother’s worried sick. That stupid asshole. Why they didn’t disqualify him after the first dirty hit, I’ll never know, but you had a fair fight.” You squinted through the migraine.

“…Did I win?”

“From a DQ, yeah. Hardly counts, and I’m sure you hardly feel like it. The guy was a nutcase. The kind that takes out their aggression through the sport rather than respecting it. You’re gonna be out for the count for a while, you know that, right? Grade three concussion. You’re going to have to take a break. Me and your trainer already called every gym around and put you on the blacklist—,”

“But dad—,”

“Nope, I’m not going to hear it. You are not allowed to even think about working out or training. We are going to keep our eyes on you at all times because we all know how you think and what you’re going to try to pull. Recovery is the most important part of an injury. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll never get better in time for the invitational. Got it?” You guffawed.

“You can’t keep eyes on me at all times.”

“Not me, personally, but there is someone with a similar schedule to you that you happen to go to school with and happens to live around the block.” You glared at the man.

“You recruited Light into helping you, didn’t you?” He shrugged and took the steps forward to stand at the foot of the bed.

“It’s more so he volunteered. He knows just as well as the rest of us you need to be watched or you’ll train at some faraway gym or secluded area. It’s for your best interest. You’ll go to school with him and he’ll take you back to their place until we get home—.”

“I don’t need a goddamned babysitter,” you bit out.

“On the contrary, would you not sneak off to train despite your condition?” You shook your head. You were in no condition to be having an argument, yet you stood your ground.

“It’s the lack of trust for me.”

“Yeah, we don’t. Not when it comes to putting your health first. Light was even telling us about how you’re behind in school too. With a concussion, you’ll need help anyway. Discussion over.” If your headache could get any worse, you were pretty sure it would have.

Not that you thought that he was kidding, but you weren’t expecting the doorbell to ring so early as you brushed your teeth, a towel wrapped around your waist from your shower. Spitting quickly, you left wet footprints across the wood floor as you approached the door.

“By god,” you muttered, opening the door. “You really were enlisted, huh?” Light shrugged.

“Well, by the looks of it, you didn’t go out earlier to work out than usual in order to look like you didn’t, unless you’re showering from a quick one between when your parents left for work and I got here.” You rolled your eyes, opening the door wider and stepping aside to allow him room to enter.

“Funny. No, I just got up. Guy really did me in one, and you don’t actually have to listen to my parents. You know I’m not going to go do anything that can put my recovery at risk.” He slid his bag off his shoulder and set it on the couch.

“I know you, and the second you don’t wake up in pain, you’re gone. Sitting back and doing nothing kills you, after all. I don’t need to have known you my entire life to tell you that.” The side of your lip quirked.

“Yeah, whatever. Let me get some clothes on,” you turned around and returned to the bathroom. Putting on the folded clothes you left in the corner, you grabbed your bag from your bedroom and met with the boy digging into his bag. “Ready, babysitter? I’m going to call you that all day, by the way. No matter who we’re with.”

“Great. I can’t wait.” …

It wasn’t so bad, having a sitter. You mean, you were with Light when you weren’t training, anyway. Going to his house every day after school was even normal, mind the odd words being thrown around the school by the observers. No one confronted you about it, which came as no surprise. Who was going to confront a boxer about those kinds of rumors?

Light didn’t seem to mind, either. As one of the top bachelors of the whole school, you were sure he had to be aware of them. Just like your parents’ desired future for the two of you, you never spoke of it. Perhaps he was as nervous to bring it up as you were, or at least as reluctant. Still, nothing would change. If he would not speak of it, neither would you.

You never suspected, however, for that dam of silence to ever break in either of you. …

It was nearing the end of your recovery when the only thing between you and getting back in the ring was a doctor’s okay. Your parents and the Yagami’s were going out for a “night on the town,” quote-on-quote. Sayu was at a sleepover, and your parents ordered you to make your way over to Yagami household.

“It’s getting close to you being cleared. No point in ruining it now, Y/N. Just go. You probably have work he has to teach you anyway.” You glared at your parents as they stood adamant. “Go. We will have him drag you there.” “As if he could,” you muttered.

“Let me in!” Two minutes of knocking, you resigned to lifting up the third rock from the right and grabbing the key from the underside. After you broke in three times in a week at age seven, you would think they’d change the key’s location.

You set your possible overnight bag on the couch. On the main floor, it was quiet, which wasn’t all surprising. Light has been spending more time in his bedroom than ever. That was saying a lot, itself, because he was always in there in the first place. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting you. You grinned.

Footsteps light, you tiptoed up the stairs and turned the corner. There were small noises coming from the other side of his door that you could hear from the far side of the hall. As you creep closer, you couldn’t necessarily distinguish what the noises were. Nonetheless, it was clue enough he was too preoccupied to notice the huge scare you’re about to give him.

Hand on the doorknob, you turned it and screamed as you entered.

Though, turns out you were the one that got more scared. Not in fright, but of shock. Light, however, remained composed as ever despite the position you caught him in.

His smell overpowered the room. You nearly were kicked back from it. Back bent upwards off the bed, his mouth agape with small guttural moans and breathless gasps escaping it, all while his hand worked every so slowly stroking his cock. His other hand fisted what you recognized as your lost sweatshirt covering his nose and mouth. Above the material, his eyes were trained on yours, head rolled to the side as his motion continued.

“Jesu—what? Is that my…” Looking around the slightly torn up room, you recognized t-shirts, tape, and even your current pair of boxing gloves lying around the room or on his bed. “I-I don’t…” His fist threw the sweatshirt to the side as the hand came down hard on the bed.

“You don’t—mmh—what? Get it? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer at times, but you can put this together, can’t—uh—you?” His grin grew wider and more wicked as he took in your reaction. “I’ll say, you have an unspeakable amount of willpower, but I think—ah—I’ve had enough of it.”

“What do you mean? Did—did you plan this?! To trigger my fucking—ugh.” He rolled his eyes. Whether it was from pleasure or annoyance, you couldn’t tell, and your mind wasn’t really in a state to think about it under the current conditions.

He had you trapped. His smell corrupted the very air around you and seeped into your skin. It was overpowering. You could feel your rut, your ever so clandestine, rut-stained self, emerging from its thick chains. You couldn’t even take a step backward or turn to open the unlocked door. All of your nerves screamed at you to take him. To make him scream so that all he could say, all he could even think about, was you, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

Because this isn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to be linked with him outside of your parents’ desire for you and him to be wed one day. This was the path to that future, the future that distracted you from your goal.

Light shifted to stand above your lack and bent form that was on its last legs before the rut would take over. A hand softly stroked your head, as a parent would stroke a child’s, and set itself under your chin. It nudged upwards, forcing your gaze to his. At such close vicinity, the scent, his scent, him, it was all you could perceive.

“You really are the worst. The epitome of holding yourself—your desires—back. I know you don’t want what our parents want. I know the thought of something tearing you from your dream kills you. I know that you think that this,” he motioned between the two of you, “would be the exact definition of a distraction, so you’ve pushed it all down. Never acknowledging its existence. Well, do you acknowledge it now?”

You didn’t answer. You were nervous about what would come out of your mouth if anything did. Your willpower would die with the next exhale you took. Annoyed with your last stand, he dragged his hand from your neck to your shoulder and shoved your weak state down so you were on your knees. He leaned down so his breath ghosted over your lips.

“You really put on a show for me, you know. Answering the door with only your towel on back then. Deep down, I think you want this too. Deep down, you know that this was bound to happen. Just like your pain in a fight, you ignore it. You’re not a complicated individual to figure out. Just give in. What’s the harm in letting someone else take the reins for once?” He stared down at you, you felt it, but you refused to meet it, choking on shallow breathes in order not to inhale his scent too much. You remained silent, using your leftover strength to power onto your two feet.

“Not going to talk? Fine. Your mouth could—,” you didn’t even allow him the time to finish the sentence or pull through on what you knew was going to be his statement as you rushed to shove him rough enough to force him to fall on his ass on the floor next to the bed. He looked up at you from his seated position, eyes wide and excited. You seemed more shocked than him and took a step backward towards the door. His eyes, yellowed and urgent, followed your movements.

Swallowing, you willed yourself to extend your hand down as a form of apology: one you were unable to voice in current conditions. Light’s hand, soft and delicate, grasped is softly at first, allowing you to lift him to stand just over the bed, then squeezed, brought his other hand to your forearm. and tugged your unsuspecting form onto the bed with him, so you unwillingly straddled his legs.

He was quick to surge upward and lock his arms around your neck. Meeting his lips was kissing the devil himself: everything about it was all-consuming, hot, wrong. Light did not start out slow, just as he was with everything else. With guns blazing, his tongue tore open your lips and invaded your now open maw with vigor and power your conscious self could not meet. He brought his hands to your ass and tugged you forward to push your bodies tight together. Breaking only to breathe and begin to force your shirt up your abdomen with his cold fingers. You helped. God, you shouldn’t have, but your clothes were getting so hot. As soon as the article was off, Light latched to your neck, teeth quick to bite. You gasped, tilting your head back to reveal more skin to him. He brought his hand up and tugged on your hair, eliciting another groan from your lips.

“For someone who abhorred the thought of us together, you seem to be enjoying yourself.” His mouth continued down your form, biting the skin, and then licking the newly affected area. By now, you could feel your length suffocating even under the looseness of sweatpants. The undeniable urge for relief, for him, the one who was adjusting you to stand in front of him. An obvious, wordless request to rid yourself of your confines. “Go on. I’m waiting,” he said, leaning back to show his nude-self off. His cock glistening with a delightful mix of slick and precum. Inviting. Warning. Waiting. Jesus, you needed your fucking pants off!

Hurrying to get your legs bare, you allowed your own slick to make its first drops onto the floor. Light did not make any moves, only locking his eyes onto yours. A silent argument, but you were in no mood to trifle in such affairs with your mind clouded. Surging forward, you would have been able to straddle him once more would it not be for his hand solidly placed on your abdomen. “I said, I’m waiting, you sex-craved beast. Tell me how much you need this. How much you want to be mine. To follow the path carved for you with me. I have enough here to get me through my heat, but you don’t get ruts too often, do you?” Why and how this twig held so much authority, you would never know.

“Just let me—,”

“Let you?” He laughed. “Do you think you’re the one in charge here? What? You think because you’re physically stronger, because you’re an alpha, that you get dominance here?” His eyes, though yellow, spoke true on his words. They demanded compliance. “Now, be a good boy, and beg to fuck me. Beg to stick your cock inside me.” To stress his point, he ground upwards ever so slightly. You hissed at the contact.

“God, please just let me—please just—fuck. Light, I need to fuck you. I need to take you, to mate you, to—fuck—I want you to scream for me, and only me. I want your throat raw from how loud and how much you scream for me.” You gripped the headboard above him while your other hand trailed down his lithe body coated in sweat until it reached his hole. His slick dripped from there due to his heat so that your finger slipped right in. Light moaned. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Please,” you slipped a second, then the third digit in. Light’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as his back arched to meet the thrust of your fingers.

“Shit, it feels so good, Y/N, alpha. Go on. Mate me. Be mine forever just as I’d be yours.” You adjusted yourself to settle comfortably between his legs and used your hands to lift them, bending him in half to expose himself to you. You hissed as his first squeeze around you before you continued to sink in. Shared moans filled the room as you cursed out for each other. “Yes, feel how tight I am for you, how your cock was meant for me.” Heat shot through every nerve fiber of your being, and you did not bother to begin your thrust languidly. Instead, you rushed to build to a quick, pounding pace. Your rut pushing you to go deeper, and faster as he tightened around your length. Your hips met his groan with an audible smack, and, at a certain angle, Light cried out. “What are you… waiting for…? Bite… me. Claim me, you beast.”

You could barely hear his words through your focus, your feeling, and, after a short while, even Light could not manage words. Only gasps, moans, and a few small screams escaped his lips and you sought your release. Closer, and closer, and closer… fuck. You ground your pelvis into his.

“Shit, I’m gonna—oh, fuck,” you whispered, a quiet worship into the air as you allowed yourself to empty within him. You pulled out slowly, watching small amounts of liquid viscously drool out. Light’s skin was flushed deeply red, sweat glistening off his skin, and cock red, pulsing, and heavy against his torso. His labored breaths from his wide, open mouth forced his stomach to rapidly grow and shrink before he quickly regained himself and focused his eyes on you.

“What? Do you think I’m done with you?” He smirked, still breathing heavily, chest rising and falling. “Come here.” You let his legs go to allow him to surge forward and capture your lips with his own. “I’m still rock hard. Why don’t you do down there and do something about it, hm?” Light supported his point by guiding your hand to grasp his cock. “Go on.”

His scent was all-consuming. Your nose trailing the skin of his cock as it followed your tongue up and down his length. You swirled your tongue around this head while your hand worked the base of his cock. “Eyes on me, alpha. Eyes on your omega, now.” Yellowed eyes dared you to look away. “Go on, and take me in.” Light gasped as you swallowed him. “Fuck, fuck, yeah. Now, suck. Yes. Just like that. Bob your head—just like,” he grasped your head and guided your movements, “that, yes. Damn, you’re a terribly slow study with math, but fuck, you learn to suck cock quickly.”

You followed his instructions, hand lightly teasing his balls, mouth taking him deep then pulling back, until you began to move on your own volition. “Oh, yes. I’m gonna- fuck. You better fucking swallow all of me. I don’t want to see a single drop on the bed.” Light watched with sick delight as you struggled to take his spend in. He was quick to reach down when you retracted your mouth, sealing your jaw shut with his hand until he saw your adam’s apple bob. “Oh, good boy. Now,” ignoring your painfully—once again—hard cock, he pulled you back up, “claim me. Bite me, alpha. Do it.”

“N-no, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Go ahead.” Light moved his locks and stretched his neck out to you. There was nothing more you wanted to do than sink your teeth into the smooth stretch, to have your scent follow him as he walked around the school every day. “Bite me, Y/N. Do it now,” and you did. Light howled in pleasure as copper filled your mouth. You licked the raw skin before sinking you teeth in deeper and sucking what you can.

“Light,” you pulled back, eyes blown wide. “I—,” he shushed you by tightly gripping your cock with a wide smile.

“It all worked perfectly,” he said, beginning to stroke your length in tandem with his words. “I thought replacing your gloves would cause you to lose, to grieve, to stay here, but when I heard of your opponent and talked with him just a bit before your match, angering him about what kind of person you were, I had to. I had to.” You bit your bottom lip, unable to articulate words as he picked up his pace, tightened and loosened his grip, and brought in his other hand. “It hurt to see you injured, but I had to what had to be done. I needed you to make me yours. You don’t belong with anyone else besides me. Your dreams, your work ethic, your body, your mind, they’re all mine, and now, with this,” he motions to the raw, bloodied skin of his neck, “my plan has come to fruition beautifully. It’s like the universe deemed it so.” Your breathing escalated. His thumb moved to tease the head of your cock. “You’re all,” he laughed, “fucking mine.”

He met your lips the same time your release spilled into the open air. “Now,” he leaned back, “let’s keep going, hm?”

#light x reader #yandere light yagami x reader #m!reader #x m!reader #death note fic #yandere death note #Light Yagami #death note #tw yandere #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw dubcon #tw: a/b/o

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - Braid Braid

Summary: One day Mabel asks her Grunkle Ford to braid her hair, but ever since he went out to investigate an anomaly with Dipper instead, the fact he couldn’t deliver her simple request plagued him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, Ducktective, it seems you’ve quacked the case.”

“Quack, quack, quack.”

Mabel laughed as she continually brushed her hair; the show may have ended ten months ago, but she was convinced that Ducktective was real and would never die, so she happily watched reruns whenever she could. She sat in her grunkle’s chair with her case of hair things, having already finished her sweater for the day, and she planned to play with her long hair while she watched TV. She heard footsteps and casted her eyes to her left. Soon an old nerd came into view and she grinned. “Hey, Grunkle Ford!”

“Hello, my dear.” He smiled at her. “What are you up to?”

“Just watching TV.” She then lit up as a brilliant idea came to her and she held up her hairbrush and glittery bag full of hair clips and hairbows. “Wanna braid my hair?”

Ford held up a hand as he smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Mabel, but I don’t know how to braid hair…”

“I can teach you if you want!” The girl offered happily. “I bet you’d be great at it!”

Just then, Dipper came down the stairs called, “Hey, Grunkle Ford! Ready for our mission?”

“Indeed!” Ford gave him a high-six and the boys headed for the door.

“Where are you two going?” Mabel asked.

“I convinced Ford that we should investigate the Hawktopus further.” Dipper answered. “No anomaly is too stupid to look into.”

“We’ll be back by dinner.” Ford promised as he opened the door. “If not, then assume the monster ate our flesh.”

“See ya later, sis!” Dipper called and the boys were gone.

“Bye!” Mabel yelled after them through the door happily, but her happiness slowly went away as sad thoughts occupied her brain. “Have fun. Without me.”

The teenager slumped in the chair, the sounds of the TV unable to penetrate her thoughts. She knew her grunkles loved her very much, but sometimes she wondered if Ford liked Dipper way better than he liked Mabel. She could understand Ford liking Dipper a little bit more than her, because they were so similar, but it sometimes felt like the Sweater Twins only had sweaters in common and that’s it.

The more Mabel thought about it, it was no wonder Ford liked Dipper way more than he liked Mabel. Stanford Pines was an experienced scientist who had been all over the Multiverse, traveling for thirty years, and was as tough as nails and as strong as an ox; no one like that would want to hang out with a girl who likes glitter and make-overs and other girly things. No wonder Ford would much rather hang out with Dipper than her. Mabel didn’t blame her uncle, but it still kinda hurt.

She wished there was something they could both do. Something Ford and Mabel liked to do. Something no one would only be doing to spend time with the other. Mabel loved adventure and weirdness and exploring, but maybe Grunkle Ford only wanted that to be a Dipper and him thing, which was fine! So Mabel racked her brain for anything he would want to do with her, but she couldn’t think of anything.

To get her mind off of it, she went into the kitchen to get a drink of Mabel Juice and then to maybe hang out with Grunkle Stan, play some cards or throw water balloons at each other. She didn’t really feel like playing with her hair anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hawtopus investigation proved to be more difficult and more enjoyable than Ford had predicted, so after dinner and the kids had gone to bed he yawned into his hand and ventured into his bedroom to take a shower and go to bed. He entered the clean space and slipped off his trenchcoat to hang it on the coat track, and as he did so his eye caught something bright purple and sparkly. He smiled as he saw a bundle messily wrapped with coloring paper and tied up with red ribbon, glitter added for some “pizzazz” as Mabel would have called it.

Ford gently picked up the package and sat on the couch with the gift on his lap. He couldn’t contain the huge smile on his face as he unwrapped the gift. There, cushioned in wrapping paper and on his lap, was a brand new sweater. Ford grinned and held it up for a better look at the new turtleneck. It was blue, his favorite color, and had a beaker with atoms swimming around it, something science-y for him to display proudly on his chest. Mabel had made him a sweater once before, a new red one with a golden six-fingered hand on it, and now he was honored with two sweaters.

He made a mental note to thank Mabel with hugs in the morning. As he stripped for his bath and turned on the shower, he wondered how in the world Mabel found time to do this, to make so many sweaters in such a short amount of time; she seemed to miraculously make a sweater every day! Then his mind toyed with the idea of her working on the sweater while watching TV, but then he remembered that Mabel had been doing her hair and had asked Ford to braid it.

Under the warm water, the old scientist felt like a rock had been dropped in his stomach. He realized he might have hurt her feelings to choose to bond with Dipper rather than her, considering the boys always seemed to be together. Ford was aware that he accidentally showed favoritism in one twin, something he completely didn’t intend to do, and not only had he done so, it had hurt Mabel’s feelings. He had hoped countless messages and phone calls and video chats between summers had assured Mabel that Ford cared about her, but it was very possible that she might need a reminder every so often.

To make it up to her and to reward her for her kindness and patience with a special treat, Ford racked his brain for what to do for her. The only thing that stuck out was the way she had innocently asked her grunkle to braid her hair. Taking into account that no one in the family seemed to do “girly” things with her, at least not nearly as much as she does “boyish” things with the men in the family, Ford made up his mind.

After the shower and dressing in his new sweater, dark pants, and trenchcoat, Ford snuck out of the house to do some research. The library was closed, but Ford had no problem sneaking in and settling in a desk at the dead of night, reading books on the History of Braids and the Origins of Dreadlocks and literally any hair-themed book and magazine the library had; he even read up on hair-dying techniques for whenever Mabel had the desire to try something new.

The books didn’t feel enough. After a quick cup of coffee at a gas station, Ford hurried up the hill for his best friend’s manor. He knocked on the door urgently and waited a minute or two for Old Man McGucket to come to the door, rubbing his eyes with a bathrobe over his green flannel pajamas. “St-Stanford? Whazza matter?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, buddy, but it’s very important.” Ford pressed, his arms full of books and magazines he had borrowed without permission from the library. “I need to learn how to braid hair for Mabel and I was hoping I could use your mobile computer.”

Fiddleford blinked through his thick green glasses and smiled a half-toothy smile. “This is an emergency. Anythang for Lil’ Sweet Tea! C’min, c’min. Want some coffee?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Long into the night, the old researchers acted just as seriously as they did back in the day, except they weren’t unintentionally creating a gateway to Hell. McGucket dug up some more books from the Northwest’ private book collection in the lounge and Ford used the laptop to do some more recent, or “trendy”, findings. To he and McGucket’s amazement, the internet was full of videos showing exactly how to do all sorts of hairstyles. From coloring hair to cutting it to braids and ponytails, all kinds of hair from straight to messy curls to somewhere in between could be learned to tame with a few clicks on a computer.

“Bingo!” Ford said, readjusting his glasses, and he quickly got to work, just as enthusiastic as he was about earning another PhD or discovering a new anomaly. Fiddleford had a very hard time keeping the smiling eyes off his friend as he watched him get so excited about a feminine activity, one both men had been deprived of due to a lack of females in their lives but were eager to explore.

The next morning, Mabel yawned into her fist and skipped cheerfully down the stairs for a glass of orange juice to start the day. She heard the front door open and close and she was surprised to find Ford coming home. “Grunkle Ford, wh… Aw! You’re wearing your new sweater!”

Ford grinned and nodded. “Yes, I absolutely love it! It’s almost as beautiful as you, my dear. Thank you very much.”

Mabel blushed and drank some juice. “You’re welcome! So, where have you been? Out on a morning walk?”

“Something like that.” Ford said with a shrug. “So, would you still be interested in me braiding your hair?”

Mabel gasped and cried out, “OH, YES PLEASE! I’ll be right back!” And the young girl ran off to get her bag of hair things.

Ford sat himself in his brother’s chair and Mabel soon returned and plopped in his lap when he petted his right leg for her. Mabel gave him the hairbrush to detangle her bed-head and said, “Okay, so it’s easier to start by parting it into sections…”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear.” Ford said calmly as he brushed her hair lovingly. “I’ve done my research.”

Mabel had on idea what he meant by that, but she shrugged and decided to let him do as he pleased. She had braced her skull for a bit of tugging as it was sometimes difficult to brush tangled hair, but Mabel was pleasantly surprised to find Ford being as gentle as a kitten and brushing her hair so gently she could hardly feel the pull on her scalp, and yet she could feel the knots becoming undone and progress being made. She grinned and said, “Wow, Grunkle Ford, you’re really really good!”

It was a good thing she couldn’t see how red his cheeks turned. “Well, thank you, sweetheart. You truly have very beautiful hair.”

“So do you! It’s so fluffy and cute! After you braid your hair can I braid yours?”

Now Ford’s whole face was as scarlet as a king’s robe. He knew his hair was a bit harder to manage than Stanley’s but he never considered it to be cute or fluffy. “I see no reason why not.”

“Yes! I’m so excited! You really are very beautiful, Grunkle Ford.”

Okay, who gave this young lady permission to be this adorable? There were several dimensions in which it was illegal. “Th-Thank you, Mabel, but really I’m not… B-Beautiful is a more suitable term for wom-”

“Nu, uh!” Mabel interrupted and shook her head only a little bit, trying to be still for her uncle as he brushed her hair. “Daddy says anyone and anything can be beautiful. If a flower or Christmas lights or an animal can be beautiful, then girls and boys can be beautiful. And also girls and boys can be handsome!” Mabel added to drive her point further home.

Ford chuckled and it made his niece’s chest feel warm. “That makes sense. Thank you, Mabel. So, did you feel well last night?”

“Yeah! I had a really funny dream!”

“Oh, what was it about?”

The conversation spilled into swapping stories of past dreams. While Ford’s dreams from the past mostly contained nightmares, he could recall a small handful of dreams that were positive spins on his imagination and he happily recalled them with Mabel. As their talk flowed so easily, like water, Ford detangled all of Mabel’s beautiful hair and then began to braid. He wanted to impress her with something big and elaborate, but he wasn’t confident in his skills yet and this was his first attempt, so he met in the middle and did something a bit more complicated than a simple braid but he wasn’t nearly ready for a boho wedding braid.

With his tongue between his teeth, Ford carefully tied the braid close and held his polydactyl hands away to inspect his work. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

“I wanna see, I wanna see!” Mabel squealed and pulled out a mirror to see her uncle’s work. She was silent with a hard-to-read expression on her face as her eyes fell on her reflection. She tilted her head and the mirror to see the back of her head to see the braid and remained silent.

The braid started as two side braids at the back of her head, but they trailed down and combined into one big, lush braid that hung loosely from the bottom of her skull and trailed down her back. There were one or two times the braid didn’t match the rest of the hair piece and Ford thought the big braid was too loose now that he took a second look at it.

His face fell a little as he was concerned that she didn’t like it and was trying to hide her disappointment. Ford knew he should have interviewed some hairdressers before attempting to do Mabel’s hair, but he had been so excited that he had become reckless, just like always. “I’m sorry, Mabel, I understand if you don’t like it…”

“I LOVE IT!” Mabel had finally conjured up the strength to grin, the wind had been knocked out of her from pure delighted shock, and her eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled as she admired Ford’s work. “IloveitIloveitIloveitILOVEIT!!!” She squealed loudly and was bouncing in Ford’s lap. “Look, Grunkle Ford, look! You did SUCH a good job! I’m so pretty now! That’s the best braid I’ve ever seen! ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!” And she spun around to kiss his cheek and she hopped off of him. “I’m gonna go show Dipper! DIPPER! LOOK WHAT GRUNKLE FORD DID!” Mabel yelled as she ran as fast as she could.

Ford was as still as a statue as his niece’s kind words ringed in his ears like cheerful bells. He wanted to smile, but all he could manage was a tearful look as he used all his might to try not to try, his eyes wet and shiny and his lips pressed together. He chuckled at himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose and composed himself. Soon Mabel was skipping back to him and leaped back into his hold to hug him and nuzzle her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford, I love it.” She repeated.

Ford hugged her back tightly and rubbed circles into her back. “You’re very welcome, my dear. Thank you for letting me braid your hair.”

After one last squeeze, Mabel climbed up the armchair to sit on the back so she was behind Ford’s head. She held out a hand for the hairbrush and said, “Your turn!”

Ford grinned and handed her the sparkly hairbrush and felt himself relax as his scalp was treated to the gentle sensation of his niece brushing and caring for his gray fluff.

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #Mabel and Ford bonding #MORE SWEATER-TWINS BONDING #braidinghair #mabel pines #ford pines #nothing but fluff over here people #FLUFF

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another-sonic-blog · 4 years

Note

BOO, CONGRATULATIONS ON THE 1,100 FOLLOWERS 🎉🎉🎉 Can I get uhhhh prompt Movie!Amy meeting Movie! Sonic for the first time???😳💖 I want to see your take on it so bad my guy.😖💖

Blue Meets Pink

Sonic couldn't stop that anxious feeling whenever Tom drove off. His life has been too perfect, living the dream. He had to admit that he was scared that one day Tom will never come back and that all the good moments he spent with Tom and Maddie were a dream.

"But he always comes back ... he always does."

Sonic reassured himself as entered his school. The community of Green Hill had accepted him and kept his existence a secret, which he appreciated deeply. Just like in town, he was pretty popular in school as well. He wasn't the smartest one around, it was a bit hard for him to stay in one place and pay attention. He usually needed Maddie's help to finish his homework, Tom tried to help him as well sometimes but he usually gave up midway ... junior high's homework can be tricky. Or at least that's what Tom said.

However, Sonic was pretty good at sports. He was on every sports team at school. Football, soccer, track, tennis, volleyball, but of course he had to restrain himself from using his super speed. It was fine by Sonic, what matters to him was that he wasn't playing alone like he used to before.

Of course, Tom and Maddie will never miss a game. They were supportive of him and celebrated all of his wins and losses.

It was also fun to dress him as a normal boy before a game. Long pants, long sleeve t-shirts, a cap, and a facemask was all it took to convince the other school that Sonic was just a normal 12 years old.

Sonic stepped inside the building as everyone greeted him with a smile. Teachers, custodians, staff, and students.

It was a sunny day in Green Hills, Sonic had a chili dog packed on his Flash backpack and he was excited to see his friends.

Today was going to be a good day.

Sonic was wrong. Tom was always punctual when he picked him up but today ... he didn't show up. He waited for him for 30 minutes in the rain. What started as a good day, turned out to be horrible.

"Do they don't want me anymore? Maybe they just need a break from me ... I can be pretty annoying after all ..."

Sonic decided to walk home. Yes, he could run there but he decided to walk so he can think. He hated to be wet, overall, he hated water but for now, he will stand it.

Sonic walked through Green Hill's downtown. Coffee shops, pizzerias, small clothing shops, and small libraries were the main attraction. He passed over a dark alley, he would have kept walking if it wasn't because he heard crying coming from around the trashcans.

He was very curious at heart. Sonic also loved to help those in need, especially the townspeople who have been kind to him. He walked over the alley and walked behind the trashcans where the crying was more intense.

It was still raining but he knew for sure that he had found a pink furball.

A crying pink furball.

"What the-"

"Aaah!"

Sonic looked at the pink one up and down. She was small and pink, or so he thought. She was dirty and couldn't tell if it was pink or brown or both. She was wearing a brown dress. It looked more like a rag than anything else. The pink thing was wearing some type of sandals that looked like they could break at any moment. She was covered in mud, and if Sonic didn't know better he could tell that she was hurt as well. She has scratches on her knees and arms and a little bit of blood came out of the cuts. Unlike him, her quills were pink and down, very short and feminine, she had bangs as well. Her quills were messy and had leaves and small tree branches on all of her quills.

She had green eyes just like him.

"So, is this what Tom felt the first time he saw me?"

The pink creature in front of him had his full attention. It was obvious that they looked similar.

"What are you?," Sonic asked. He looked at her up and down.

"I am ... I am a hedgehog!" The pink one stutter. She was starting to get scared and intimidated by blue one in front of him. She walked back until she hit the alley's wall.

"I am a hedgehog too! What's your name?" Sonic asked excitedly.

The pink creature saw how the blue one expression changed. Before he was startled, now he was ... excited? It was as he had never seen another hedgehog before. She had to admit that it was a bit adorable.

"Amy," She whispered. "My name is Amy."

"Amy what?" Sonic asked.

Amy looked at him curiously, and she proceeded to ask. "What do you mean what?"

"Yes ... Amy what? What is your last name?"

"Last name?" Amy asked again.

"Yes, my name is Sonic and my last name is Wachowski," Sonic said. "I am Sonic Wachowski the Hedgehog."

"Oh ... I am just Amy," she said. "I don't have a last name."

It kept raining. Sonic looked at Amy. She looked lost and afraid. It somehow reminded him of his past self. Sonic wanted to help her at any cost.

Sonic walked closer to Amy and she flinched at his act. Sonic stopped moving and instead, he smiled at her.

"Are you hungry?"

Sonic had taken Amy to 'Mama's Pizzeria' the most famous place in town. Although he felt bad for taking it, Tom or Maddie always made sure to leave money on Sonic's backpack. Today, he was happy to find that they both had left him money. He could buy a really nice meal for Amy.

"Eat whatever you want! I'll pay!" Sonic said as they both sat on a booth. He noticed that Amy was at awe. She was fascinated by everything, well she was literally in another world. Sonic remembered to be like her the first time he arrived. He was young and got used to it quickly but for Amy, it must be interesting and scary at the same time.

"Oh, what is that?!" Amy asked and Sonic looked at what she was pointing.

"That's a lamp,"

"Oh, what is that?"

"That's a baby,"

"Oh, what is that?"

"That's a pizza,"

"Can I take your order?"

Sonic and Amy were interrupted as a human girl approached them. Her name was Maria, a blond blue-eyed girl. Maria worked for the pizzeria as a waitress to help out her grandfather. She was very lively and liked by everyone in the town. She smiled at them and Sonic felt relieved that she didn't say anything about Amy's appearance.

"We would like a large pepperoni pizza and two drinks please," Sonic said.

Maria wrote the order down on her notepad and she then focused on her attention to Sonic's new friend.

"Oh, it seems like you brought a date with you today," Maria said, she bent down to take a better look at Amy. "I am sorry, but you are covered in mud. Wouldn't you like to take a shower meanwhile Sonic waits for your food?"

Amy instantly looked at Sonic. Although she didn't know the hedgehog any better, the small amount of time and kindness he had shown her was enough for Amy to trust the blue one. As well that he seemed to know better of this world and was one of her own.

"You should go, Maria's house is above this place. I will wait for you here." Sonic reassured her and in that, Amy looked over at Maria and nodded accepting her offer.

Sonic watched how Amy followed Maria, a bit scared but he knew that she will get used to her soon enough.

There were many questions he wanted to ask her but that could wait until they have eaten.

The food has arrived already but Amy nor Maria haven't shown up yet. Sonic wanted to wait for her so they could eat together but his hunger got the best of him and using his speed, he ate a slice. He looked over the restaurant as he chews on the pizza. The restaurant had fairy lights and Italian music was playing on the background. The booth he was sitting on had a square table. On top of it, a pink rose on a crystal vase decorated the wooden table.

A few seconds after that, Maria showed up with a very cute hedgehog. Wait-

A shower can make a big difference. Amy's pink fur shined as well as her quills who looked soft to the touch. She was wearing a red and white dress with matching boots and a red hairband decorated her head.

"Wow, Amy," Sonic said as he quickly cleaned his mouth, wiping away the evidence of his previous act.

"Maria gave me this dress," Amy said as she sat down again on the booth. She moved to the side to give Maria space to sit next to her. Maria was a nice girl and she had gained Amy's trust immediately.

"I used to wear this dress when I was younger, it doesn't longer fit me so I gave it to Amy," Maria said as she accepted Amy's gesture and sat next to her. "Doesn't she look pretty, Sonic?"

"She looks um ... clean!" Sonic blurted out. He didn't know how to respond, it would be very uncool of him to say that she looked pretty. No, yeah that's not happening.

Sonic's thoughts were interrupted as he noticed Amy eating the pizza. She finished slice by slice, and Sonic thought that maybe he will have to buy another pizza.

Amy noticed the eyes on her and she felt embarrassed. She hasn't eaten anything since yesterday and she didn't know where to get food. She took a sip of her water and she gave a Sonic and Maria smile.

The two let out a small laugh and after seeing that Amy was more comfortable, Sonic proceeded to make questions.

"So Amy, where are you from?" Sonic asked.

"I am from Mobius, a planet far away from this one," Amy responded.

"And how did you get here?"

Amy looked outside the window. She didn't know if she could trust them with such information. However, noticing that they were so kind to her without knowing her, then maybe telling them about her situation could benefit her.

"I came following my friend, Tails, but I lost track of him along the way." Amy said, "Our world is in danger, a creature called Chaos has devastated our world and we came looking for a hedgehog who could save it."

"A hedgehog? Me?" Sonic asked excitedly but Amy moved her head from side to side, denying it.

"Tails was very specific ... His record shows that 50 years ago a hedgehog from our world came to this planet." Amy added, "That hedgehog was the Ultimate Life Form, he had great powers and he used them to protect Mobius ... but one day, he disappeared. After extended research, we found that this hedgehog ended up on planet Earth and that he was capture by a military organization called G.U.N. Now we are looking for him, hoping that he can help up save our world."

Amy looked over at Sonic, "It would have been great if that hedgehog was you Sonic but the one we are looking for is a black and red hedgehog."

"Wait you said G.U.N., right?" Maria interrupted as she snapped her fingers in realization. She looked over at Amy who nodded. "My grandfather used to work for them during his younger years! He even still has some of the past documents of his missions. We can look over those documents and even ask him if he knows anything on the matter and-"

"SONIC WACHOWSKI THE HEDGEHOG WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"

The two hedgehogs and human turned to see that Tom had entered the restaurant, he looked frantic and angry as he walked towards their booth.

"Sonic, we have been looking for you like crazy!" Tom said.

"Well, if someone had picked up me at school I wouldn't be here!" Sonic said with a bit of hurt in his voice.

"In the morning I told you we couldn't pick you up today, I told you to take the bus!" Tom said, "But you were too focused eating, so it's no wonder you-"

Tom stopped midway as he noticed the pink hedgehog in front of Sonic. He was quick to take out his phone and dial a number.

"Maddie? Yes, I found him! But that's not important right now, Sonic is having his first date! Yes, yes, I will take pictures. Yes, bring the professional camera we should have this on his photo album. Yes, I will tell them to wait, ok I will wait for you we are at 'Mama's Pizzeria'."

Tom and Maddie were great but could they be any more embarrassing? Sonic covered his face with his hands.

"Oh, dear ground that is underneath me ... please eat me."

Tom began to take pictures with his phone, he was so proud of his blue son.

Sonic just couldn't take it.

"Alright, we are leaving!" Sonic said as he stood up from his seat and tried to push Tom away.

"Wait, you are not going to introduce me to your girlfriend?" Tom asked.

"She is not my girlfriend!" Sonic said and he got closer to Tom and whispered. "You are embarrassing me!"

But before leaving, Sonic needed to ask Maria for a favor.

"Oh Maria, Amy seems comfortable with you." Sonic turned to look at the blond one who stood up from her seat. Amy followed her as well. "Do you think Amy can stay with you? Looking at how Tom reacted ... I just know that at my home she will be too overwhelmed."

"You go in peace Sonic, I will take good care of Amy," Maria smiled as she looked at Amy.

Almost as if she was scared, Amy got closer to Sonic and with a panic she held his hand. "Wait, don't leave me!"

Sonic felt bad for the pink one. He saw so much of him in her. They were so similar but at the same time so different. He didn't how to express himself although he wanted to bring her comfort. Sonic wanted Amy to be safe and he made a promise to himself that he will help her and protect her.

"Don't worry, I will come back!" Sonic said as he softly grabbed her hand, caressing it.

"You promise?" Amy asked innocence filled her voice.

"I, Sonic Wachowski the Hedgehog promise to visit Amy Rose every day after school," Sonic said.

"Amy ... Rose?"

"Yes, since you didn't have a last name I thought I should give you one." Sonic smiled and for a moment Amy's heart skipped a bit. "From now on you are Amy Rose! Because you are pretty and strong like one!"

They both look at each other's eye and for a moment Amy's felt different. Her heart began to beat faster, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks especially when Sonic smiled at her with such warmness.

SNAP SNAP

Tom interrupted the moment as he began to take more pictures of them.

"Don't mind me," Tom said, "You both are just too adorable!"

A/N: I hope you like this boo! Thank you again for showing me support. I love your work, keep it up

I am currently working on prompts! Thank you everyone~

#sonamy #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie #Amy Rose #amyrose #sonic and amy #fan fiction #fanfic

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sapphireharrie · 4 years

Text

you would know if you stayed

the one where harry and y/n meet again 11 months after their divorce.

It was 3 am when y/n comes home with a paper on her hand, she was just back from a meeting with her attorney, sitting in Central Park alone in the dark thinking what the hell happened to her marriage, how could it come to this when she thought they both made a vow of forever four years ago. There was no argument when she gave Harry the divorce paper, it was him that asked for a divorce two days before. They have been having arguments for the past two years, tried marriage counseling for two months but didn’t work. Every time they tried to talk, it will just end in a big argument. They know all of this happened because of the lack of communication between both y/n and Harry. They both know beforehand, even from 2 months of them dating, they know both of them are always so bad at communicating, it was never a secret, but they have tried so hard to be more open with each other, which actually worked for three years into their marriage.

It was after their three years anniversary that both realized, their marriage didn’t work; falling asleep mad at each other, y/n being disappointed when Harry didn’t show up at their dinner nights, y/n being upset because Harry keeps forgetting important dates between the two of them, Harry being bored of y/n that keeps calling him to talk about their on-going renovated condo, Harry being irritated with y/n when she complained about him not being more included in their future home, and so on. When they decided to move to New York, instead of living in California and Harry sold his bachelor Beverly Hill house, it was because of y/n’s job, however it was also Harry’s idea to move. Y/n was willing to leave her job, and move to California with him. They both know Harry was never a New York City kind of guy, even though they both moved to the high-end downtown part of Manhattan, where almost all of the people that occupied the building are everyone from Harry’s league, Harry hates New York. He never talked to y/n about this because he didn’t want to disappoint her, but he’s getting fed up on how crowded and loud NY is, that he has to make up reasons to buy another house in California and keeps on making excuses to be there.

Every time she remembered about the night she delivered the paper to Harry, she wanted to scream. She wanted to yell why didn’t he fight for her? Can anything solve this? She tried so hard to keep this marriage work, she has been trying to save their relationship, but Harry didn’t seem like he was worried at all. A month and a half into their marriage counseling, Harry stopped showing up, y/n on the other hand still try to show up. She stopped after the counselor said that this is about two people; that relationship, especially marriage, consisted of two people, wouldn’t work if only one of them is trying. However, she refused to give up, she finally stopped trying when Harry came home, looking like a mess, saying that he wanted a divorce, that he can’t stand being like this. She doesn’t even understand what ‘this’ means. She wanted to scream, saying this isn’t fair, she should be the one that ending things up since she was the one trying to save their marriage, yet all that she did was nod, no words exchanged. She nodded and she left. She tried, didn’t she? If he didn’t want to fight, then giving up is the right move.

***

Five months after their divorce, y/n gets to keep their New York condo. However, the decisions weren’t decided without a fight. Y/n refused to accept the condo because Harry bought it. Her attorney then gave a piece of advice for y/n to pay for the condo, which Harry refused. They then came up with a decision that y/n paid 85% of the condo. Harry wasted no time leaving New York. He hasn’t been to New York since then, it was crowded before. Now that they have officially separated, Harry couldn’t even breathe in New York, everything has traces of her and both of them. Months after their divorce and the papers were all done, y/n was actually thinking about moving back to her parents’ house. As much as she loved New York and her condo, she also hated it here. New York is just too much for someone just trying to make it alone. She hated when everyone in the subway would look at her because they recognized ‘Harry Styles’ ex-wife’ and they started pointing fingers at her. It kind of feels the same way when they started dating, people would always stare, but in times she just started to ignore them. But now, it just felt like everyone knows how miserable she is. That is why she bought a car. Driving in New York is just straight up hell, but she couldn’t just live on taxis, it would be much more expensive, and taxis in New York are just straight up gross.

She stayed at her parents’ house for a while and then started to renovate and change everything from their condos. When she said everything, she meant everything. Nothing’s left from when she lived with Harry. She finished everything and started moving back again. Looking at her condo, she felt this is just the way she wanted it. However, she feels overwhelmed, everything just happened so quickly. That is when she decided to call Gemma, Harry’s sister. It’s hard when you have had adjusted your life to someone else’s and their families became your best friend, it is harder when they are your only best friends. Y/n tells Gemma everything, so when she couldn’t hold it in anymore, Gemma came to her. Gemma was already in New York for a few months, so when she called Gemma literally came running.

“Y/n?” Gemma came into her condo, the condo has its own lift, that’s why she doesn’t really need keys when she got the access after she rang before. Y/n doesn’t answer her call, she looks at the condo for a while, it was beautiful, but it was also empty. There was no picture at all other than a few paintings. It was really different from when y/n and Harry lived together. Pictures everywhere, of their engagements, weddings, holidays, and she even put up some of Harry’s tour poster.

“Y/n? I’m here, it’s Gemma,” she called again, but this time she heard footsteps from the kitchen and there was y/n, in her apron, ready to hug her.

“Hi, I’ve missed you,” she said while running to Gemma who immediately hugged her back,

“I’ve missed you so much,” Gemma said between her shoulders, “It smells really good, what are you making?” she asked, releasing her from the hugs,

“Your favorite, orange chicken,” She answered while they both walked into the kitchen. Y/n finished her cooking while listening to Gemma telling her about her newest project. When they finished eating, y/n washed the dishes almost immediately, refusing Gemma’s help. Gemma stood in the kitchen watching her trying so hard not to cry while doing the dishes.

“Y/n, please, just let me help,” Gemma said slowly while walking to her, shocked when y/n suddenly dropped the plate she was holding to the sink and started holding on to the edge of the sink, trying so hard not to also drop herself to the floor,

“I’m just so-” she sobbed, while Gemma was trying to help steady her- “tired.” She finished her sentence, and God, Gemma just wanted to cry right there.

“I’m tired of crying like a fucking freak every time I’m in the shower,” Gemma was trying to help guiding her to the sofa in the living room, silently cursing the condo for being so goddamn big,

“I’m tired of coming home and having to hold my breath because I keep smelling him in this house even though I tried lighting every damn candle that I have,” she continued while Gemma was still guiding her to sit,

“I’m so tired of having anxiety attacks every time I found something that belongs to him,” y/n tried to wipe her tears with the sleeve of her sweater,

“I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, Gemma. I tried so hard to ignore everyone’s pity look for me at the office. I’m tired of doing my job so fucking slow and finding a new one every time just because I don’t want to come home. Gemma, I don’t want to be in this fucking house alone,” Gemma was just nodding along, listening to every word that she said carefully while trying not to cry herself,

“I’m tired of keep wondering when did it all fell down, when did he stopped loving me, when did he started thinking maybe separating is the answer. Gosh, Gem, I’m so tired of wondering where I went wrong because he never gave me an explanation,” Gemma was shocked when y/n said Harry never gave her an explanation for wanting to separate,

“He never told you the reason?” Gemma asked which was answered by y/n shaking her head slowly, “Gosh, darling.” Gemma started to hug her again, this time she didn’t even try to hold her tears. Giving herself a mental reminder to smack her brother’s head the next time she sees him.

“Gem, I don’t know what to do, God. I’m still so in love with him, but I’m trying so hard to let go.” She then pulled away from Gemma’s hug to get herself some tissues.

“I don’t know what to say,” Gemma said, “he doesn’t really talk to me about this. I think he knew at some point that you would talk to me, he mostly talks to mum.”

“Can you tell mu-” y/n coughed, trying to correct herself- “Anne, can you tell Anne I’m sorry for not returning her calls? It’s not that I don’t want to, I just couldn’t.”

“You know you can still call her mum, right? Y/n she loves you, she was just checking up on you. She’s been worried. We’ve all been worried, you just kind of disappear.” Gemma then picked up some tissues, realizing that she’s been crying this whole time.

“Gem,” she started again, “you know I’d do anything to make him stay, right?” she asked, instead of answering Gemma stayed silent,

“But, you should’ve seen his face when he asked for a divorce. He looked relieved. At that moment, I decided to give up, because I don’t want him to be unhappy with me. So, I let him go. But, Gem, I would do anything to make him stay.” She sobbed.

“Is he also hurting, Gem? He must be, right?” she asked, but once again Gemma stays silent, doesn’t want to say the wrong or maybe the right thing,

“I know it’s mean and cruel, but I kind of hoped he’s tortured too,” she admitted while looking down at her shoes, ashamed.

“You’re not a bad person for hoping that, he left you hanging. I know for a fact that it’d be one whole lot easier if you know that he’s as messed up as you. You’re not mean nor selfish. Darling, you’re hurting, a lot.” No words were exchanged after Gemma said that, they sat there, hugging and crying together.

***

When Mitch asked him to go to New York with him, Harry almost refused. However, he also thought that maybe it is time for him to finally be able to be in New York without feeling her everywhere he goes. But that is impossible, even here in LA, he still feels her presence every damn time.

“You know, New York is really big, right?” said Mitch, trying to convince Harry to go, “there’s only like 35% chance of you meeting her. Besides, you don’t know if she still lives in New York, you haven’t talked to her.”

“I know I haven’t talked to her, but I checked her Twitter every day,” said Harry while sipping his coffee,

“That’s straight-up creepy, mate.” Mitch then sipped his coffee while looking at Harry,

“I just want to know how she is, and the last time I checked she still lives in New York and still works for the same company, she posted a picture of her in her office’s café.” Checking her social media is one of the things that Harry do to check up on her, other than calling her mum and maybe Gemma. The first time he checked her Twitter account after they separated there posted a tweet a week after she handed him the divorce papers,

‘If only I knew how you felt all along.’

Harry wanted to call her that day, he wanted to ask what does she mean, what does she think he felt? Because if he was honest, his feelings never change. He thought maybe this ‘stalking’ habit that he picks up after they separated is because he was so used to hearing her talk about her day, which one of his favorite things to do and he usually looks forward to it every day. The fact that he can no longer sit on their favorite sofa together with her legs on his lap, hearing her day at the office or just simply hearing about her favorite lunch, hurts him a lot.

The one tweet that sticks to him the most was the tweet that she posted around a month after their divorce, he almost wanted to put it into his album, but then again, he needed to let go, didn’t he? He looked at the tweet for a really long time, screenshotted it so that even if she decided to delete the tweet or even her account it would still be there,

‘unsure whether who is winning or losing, but then again, you could never win a one-sided battle, can you?’

Harry knew what this one was about. He realized that he gave up on her while she was trying to hold on to whatever it is left in their marriage. He left without giving her a reason why. Leaving her asking herself what the fuck was going on because he thought he promised her to fight, isn’t that what marriage is about? Fighting for each other. But he gave up. What kind of husband gave up on his perfect wife? She never asked for anything, hell, she waited for him while he was on tour. He gets to come home to his wife and his perfect condo. Not everyone has the luxury of having someone waiting for them faithfully when they leave for months and even years on the road.

Eight months after their divorce Harry almost called her to tell her he still loves her, that he missed her, and that he wanted to start over. But then again, does he even have the right to do that? He’s the one leaving her, he knew exactly what he’s going to lose, yet he still did that. He has no right to even miss her, he is the one to blame and he hates himself every day for it.

***

Three days of being in New York was pretty good, he didn’t really think about y/n because he always tried to make himself busy and so far, he hasn’t really had the chance to accidentally see her, and he hoped it would stay this way until he’s back to California. It was 9 am when he finally decided to leave his hotel room with his journal and laptop, walking into a small coffee shop near his hotel. He was just about to order when a smell caught his nose. He stopped for a second, there is no way this is y/n‘s perfume, there are millions of people wearing Tocca perfume, but this is y/n’s smell. He decided to look back to make sure that wasn’t y/n. But, god, does the universe hates him. He was faced with y/n, a phone between her shoulder and ear, and she was busy trying to find something in her purse,

“Y/n?” Harry whispered, but it was definitely caught by her because she stopped looking through her purse and finally looked up, “hi!” said Harry with a little squeal. Y/n literally stopped in her tracks, looking at Harry with shock in her face.

“I’m-” she stopped- “I’m gonna have to call you back,” she said to her phone and put it in her purse,

“What are you getting? On me.” Harry asked before she can manage to say anything, which she answered with “soy latte,” which she corrected after with,

“Hot, hot soy latte,” still in shock, she didn’t even realize Harry was done ordering for the both of them and now he is leading her to one of the many empty tables,

“Hey,” she said when she was finally able to process whatever it is in her head,

“Hey,” Harry said with a big smile on his face, however, it was not without a pang on his chest. This is her ex-wife, looking as good as ever, new haircut, but definitely suits her, and she is sitting in front of him, after eleven months, eleven whole months without seeing her, talking to her, and hearing her voice.

“How are you?” Harry asked. He nodded to the waitress when they gave him his order,

“I’m good,” she answered with a little smile on her face, “how are you?” she asked,

“I’m good, thank you. You look a bit busy, is it okay if we talk a little bit?” Harry asked while sipping his Americano,

“It’s New York, everyone is always busy,” she chuckled without answering his question. Harry felt another sting in his chest, thinking about how much he missed that chuckle.

“You also have been busy, I see. Another album, that was big.” She stated, Harry couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, she still keeps up on news about him, he sees.

“Yeah, it was pretty big.” He answered, and nodding for the second time to the waitress when they came back to their table to give y/n’s order.

“How’s work?” he asked while lifting his cup and sips his Americano,

“Good.” She answered while tracing her take away cup of soy latte, trying so hard not to look at him. He was startled because he was expecting a longer answer, maybe her asking him back about work.

They sat in silence for a moment, while Harry was thinking of what more can he ask so he can sit for a little while with her because, gosh, does he miss her. But her on the other hand, she was trying so hard to think of a reason to get out of his sight and this awkwardness.

“How is the final of the condo? How’s New York been treating you?” Harry asked genuinely since he never really see how it finishes up.

“Harry,” she sighed, “I really need to get going,” she said, then left him and her untouched latte before he can even stop her. He saw her walking out of his sight for how many times now, he couldn’t even count it. He sipped his Americano, and lean to the chair, closing his eyes. He opened his phone and call one of the most called contacts on there,

“Mum?” he sighed,

“I miss her.”

***

She walked really fast to her car and sit for a while. She wanted to stay. She would’ve stayed. But God, if she’s honest, she really would love to stay, catching up with him about life; asking him about his sister’s wedding, which she said she couldn’t attend because she can’t go to London that day due to work; asking him about his mum, is she well? Does she still go to the same yoga place? Is she mad at her for not answering her call and text? But good lord, she’s trying to let go.

Twenty minutes after she left, Harry got a notification on his phone. He didn’t even realize that he has been sitting there alone for 20 minutes after calling his mum. It was a Twitter notification that said y/n has posted a tweet. Harry still has her notification on, and she rarely ever tweets. He opened the app and went to her profile, it stated that she tweeted a minute ago and says,

‘You would know if you stayed.’

Another notification came,

‘You would know if you put up a fight.’

He deserved that, he knew he deserved that. And in that moment, after eleven months, he realized, what has he done?

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syndianites · 4 years

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow. Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work.

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.”

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?”

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself.

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o.

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead.

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.”

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.”

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.”

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this.

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.”

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?”

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care).

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.”

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #360

“we are the ones that wanna play / always wanna go, but you never wanna stay”

"Crawling" or "In The End?" I want to say "Crawling," but I really can't be sure. Both are bomb. Is your window open? No. Monsters Inc. or Shrek? Shrek, my man. What did you last hear that made your jaw drop? Jason's mom died. What is the longest shower or bath you have ever taken? I remember as kids, Nicole and I would sometimes play 'til Mom made us finish because the water was cold by then. As an adult, idk about my longest shower. Do you have a preference of chocolate? Yeah, milk chocolate. Is there anyone you’d like to hug right now? Yeah. Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Definitely not. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Do you shut off the computer when you’re done using it? No, I just close it. Do you usually catch a cold during the winter? No. I just about never get sick. Are you a good multi-tasker? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Is there a door knocker on your front door? No. Were you ever into Pokémon? Bitch I still am. Do you drink a lot of water? Sigh, no. I'm definitely better than I used to be, though; once upon a time, I literally never drank it unless I was extremely hot and dehydrated. Nowadays, it's usually after I finish my soda for the day that I then only drink water, normally around one full tall cup of it. Do you like fireworks? They're beautiful, but I'm personally against them out of respect for veterans suffering from PTSD as well as animals, because I'm not exactly interested in traumatizing them, either. Is respect given or earned with you? It's given, the way I think it should be. Are you “in the closet” about anything? No. Are you missing any teeth? No. Do you like scrapbooking? I've never gotten into it and am not really interested in doing so. What was or will be your first tattoo? It's a semicolon butterfly on my right wrist. Sometimes I've thought about getting it covered with a cooler design but the same concept; it was literally from Google, and I'm very much not into "sharing" tattoo designs with probably thousands of other people. But, I still think it really is cute, and it's just very special to me as my first, so idk. Do you have any tattoos dedicated to someone special? I have one written in Sara's handwriting inside a heart, and my "ohana" tattoo that I am 100% getting covered was dedicated to my former best friend Colleen. I've talked before about why "ohana" has never really resonated with me, and I just don't like it anymore at all. Thank God it's small. Do you like ghost stories? Oh HELL yeah, lay 'em on me. What was your favorite movie as a kid? The Lion King. Some things never change, ha. Do you own a lot of cookbooks? Mom has looooots, but never uses any. I think her mom gave them to her, so she just keeps 'em. What’s your father’s handwriting like? It looks like every other man's handwriting I've ever seen lol. All the letters are capitalized. Did you wash your hair last time you showered? I wash my hair every time I shower. I have to with it naturally being so oily. What does your shampoo smell like? Coconut. Do you listen to Guns N' Roses? Not a lot, but yeah. They've got some bangers. I actually want "Sweet Child O' Mine" to be the father/daughter dance at my wedding. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? Yeah, at my sister's wedding. What was the last video game that you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 a long time ago. Have you ever hyperventilated? Yep. Do you talk in your sleep? I scream in my sleep. Nightmares/terrors are a blast. Whose house did you last sleep over? Sara's. Have you ever been cut by scissors? No. Do you like peaches? It's odd, I like canned sliced peaches, but the actual, full fruit, I don't. I love peach flavored juice, though. Do you enjoy being surrounded by neighbors, or would you be more comfortable someplace secluded? Take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. I'm really not digging being in an actual neighborhood. Is there any sibling rivalry between you and your siblings, if you have any? Not at all. Do you usually root for the good guys or the bad guys? Ha, the baddies... Are you allowed to have pets at your house? We're allowed to have what we currently own and then maybe one dog if Mom finally finds one. Have you ever lived in a trailer park? No. Is there anyone that you know through the internet that you would feel comfortable meeting in person? There's quite a few, actually! Have you ever had a dream involving characters from a game/movie/television show? Yeah. What’s the last thing you wrote down? My signature, I think? Do you remember any phone numbers from years ago that now belong to someone you don’t know? No. Have you ever found something strange in your mailbox? No. Who was the last relative that came to visit you? My half-sister and her husband. Does your bedding all match? Not currently. Are you more comfortable with having short hair or long hair? SHORT. Are you interested in fantasy movies/shows? That's my preference. Have you ever gone whale-watching? No, but that'd be dope. What is something that you have a large amount of? Meerkat plushies. Who is it that you’re in love with? Nobody. Have you ever gotten love and infatuation confused? No. Do you have a steady income? No. Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? Both. Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? No, I wish. :( Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? MILK. I don't eat it with water. When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? Idk. Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? Noooo, I'm completely disinterested in doing that myself. If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? I don't go. Even as a kid when Mom made me, I hated it. ^and what is your least favorite thing about it? N/A What do you do for exercise? I don't. .-. I want a pool SO badly to swim and strengthen my legs without having to worry about sweating or collapsing, though. Mom says we don't have space, but we definitely do. Not a lot, but enough. Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Yeah, it's just a bit darker than the rest of my skin. Do you need to lose weight? Yes. My sister, Mom, and I very recently started a Weight Watchers subscription and we're all working our asses off to stick to it. Ash has already lost like, 12 pounds (she started before Mom and me), so I'm kinda hopeful. Have you ever had a cat? Growing up, after we took in a stray female, we ended up with a fucking empire of cats, literally around three dozen, I'd say. They were all outdoors, too, and not fixed because we couldn't afford it, so tomcats would come around and, y'know, make matters worse. Eventually, animal control took them all and I was DEVASTATED, but looking back, I understand it was necessary. Anyway, I have one cat now. Indoors and fixed and the prince of my world, haha. Have you ever had a dog? We've had a few. I was born with my dad having a collie named Trigger, but I don't remember her at all; she died of old age I believe when I was very young. Then we briefly had a pup named Angel, but she died due to that disease some puppies just have. We didn't get another dog until Teddy, who was my Christmas present, and he was put to sleep only last year, rest my baby's soul. We also had Dale, Cali, Delilah, and Bentley. Have you ever any other kind of animal? A LOT. I'm probably going to forget some, but we've had hamsters, rats, snakes, fish, a turtle, two lizards, gerbils, guinea pigs... just a lot. Animals have always been very important in my life. Have you ever had a pet rock? HA, yeah. I didn't take it seriously at all, but I had one. When was the last time you painted something? Not since my Painting course in my final college attempt. Do you have any disabilities? Not in the traditional sense, no. My social anxiety though is at such a severity that it majorly infringes upon my ability to do a LOT of things, though. What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? I couldn't name five. Just Hot Topic and Spencer's, really. What season do you want to get married in? AUTUMN. The actual dream situation would be to get married in the snow in a black dress, like can you IMAGINE the pictures, but realistically, it'd be in the fall to avoid the biting cold. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yeah. Anything special planned for today? Nope. Blue or green? Blue. How much older/younger than you was the person you lost your virginity to? He's two years older than me. Do you still care for that person? Very much. Can you completely annihilate the first Mario game in less than an hour? I haven't even played the first game. I've never really been into the games to begin with. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes! I was OOOOOBSESSEEEEEED as a kid. I would usually play it after school when my mom was an assistant teacher and was finishing up her work for the day. Have you ever contemplated climbing a water tower? Uh, no. Those kind of people got some wanderlust levels that I ain't got, haha. If you have a Facebook, when was the last time you changed your profile picture? It's been a few months. Would you ever marry someone who was lower class? Um, yes? You can deny it all you want, but answering "no" is pretty much the same as saying you'd marry for money. Is there a guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? ugh Which do you prefer: English or math? English, by light years. Who is a singer that has given you chills? David Draiman's voice in the Disturbed cover of "Sound of Silence" is fucking haunting. Greatest cover of all time. Do you watch America’s Got Talent? I did when Sharon was a judge. Do you think you could win America’s Got Talent? Hell no. What act would you perform in a talent show? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Have you ever practiced yoga? Yes. I used to be BANGIN at it. What is your favorite thing to buy at the Farmer’s Market? Fruit! Do you get carsickness? No. What color is the rim of your full-length mirror? Black. What is your state’s bird (if you live in the US)? Cardinal. Which style of wedding dress is your favorite? I'm a sucker for ballgown dresses. Do you enjoy editing videos? I used to love it, for many many years. Now, I just don't have the dedication or motivation to. Do you enjoy editing photos? Yes. If you gave birth, do you think you would want it filmed? Um, absolutely not. I would have NO desire to look back on me shrieking my lungs out and essentially dying. I handle abdominal pain very poorly, so I've got a goooood feeling that if I actually wanted to have kids, I'd be that woman screeching like a banshee.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''aerials'' by system of a down

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years

Text

And the Show Goes On

A Horror Septics Story

(I’ve been sitting on this for a while, but I finally managed to finish it. Let’s check back in on Stacy, John, and the boys, why don’t we? Surely nothing else could go wrong in their lives ;) )

—————

The road was a simple, narrow path, only two lanes. It cut through the trees of the deep forest, the branches above stretching to cover it like a canopy, the roots causing cracks in the asphalt. It was almost like the woods were trying to reclaim the narrow stretch of man-made land. The canopy caused an artificial twilight, and the car driving down the road had to turn its lights on to be able to see.

“I think we’re almost there,” Stacy said, peering through the windshield. It was hard to see far, what with the darkness caused by the trees and the weird fog hovering around the trunks. She glanced in the rear-view mirror to look at the backseat. “How’re we holding up, boys?”

Mathew made an OK sign with his hand, headphones on. Larkin was busy staring out the window, his coloring book discarded.

“Great, glad we’re doing tip-top,” Stacy commented.

John, sitting in the passenger seat beside her, chuckled. “Tip-top?” He asked.

“Yes, tip-top,” Stacy said, doubling down on the phrase. “We’re all hunky-dory.”

“God, you’re so American and cheesy,” John muttered, smiling a bit. He was leaning back against the seat, eye closed and deliberately not looking out at the trees.

“Hmm.” Stacy hummed, nodding. She fell into quiet thought for a bit. They’d come a long way from their small town in California. Two years ago, she would never have guessed that she’d end up halfway across the world, running away from some...supernatural evil. Or, well, two of them, technically.

“Oh!” Larkin pointed out the window. “Did you see that?”

“See what, Lark?” Stacy asked.

“There was a...a Cheshire cat out there,” Larkin said. “In the forest.”

John suddenly whipped around, looking over the seat. “Don’t look at it.”

“What? Why not?” Larkin asked.

“Just trust me on this one,” John said, voice lowering. “Okay?”

“What do you mean by a Cheshire cat, Lark?” Stacy asked cautiously.

“A smiling cat! Didn’t anyone else see it? Matt!” Larkin reached across and started pushing his brother. “Did you see the cat?”

“No, I didn’t see any cat,” Mathew muttered, adjusting his headphones and sinking further into the seat.

Stacy frowned, and considered saying something, but was distracted by light appearing at the end of the road. “Oh, I think that’s it!” she said, trying to sound excited.

The car passed out from the forest as if leaving a tunnel. Afternoon sunlight abruptly appeared. The road winded down a sloping hill, leading to a collection of buildings down below. The car passed a sign made of stone, reading Welcome to Foraois Hollow.

“Still the most uncreative name,” John muttered. “Foraois is literally ‘forest,’ how very original. I bet the English had something to do with it.”

“Do you speak...whatever language that is?” Mathew piped up.

“Irish, and yes,” John said. “Not fluently, but better than I used to.”

“People still speak Irish?” Mathew asked.

“Yeah, of course we do,” John said, laughing a bit. “Especially in the actual country we’re from.”

“You’re Irish?!” Stacy remarked with some surprise.

“Yeah. Can’t you tell?”

“I...can now.” She’d always sort of picked up that John had an accent, but hadn’t registered which accent it was. Until he brought it up.

John smiled sadly. “‘S okay. Not your fault.”

The rest of the drive into the small town was quiet. The buildings of Foraois Hollow wouldn’t have been out of place 200 years ago. Charming houses with peaked roofs and white walls lined the streets, until the streets eventually clustered together in what looked like the business quarter, around a paved town square. People were walking around, going about their day...though Stacy couldn’t help but notice that a lot of them stared at the car as it drove past. Perhaps that was because most people seemed to prefer walking here, but she got the feeling it was more than that.

Stacy pulled to the side of the road right next to the square. “Alright, break time,” she said. “Let’s stretch our legs while I look for a hotel. Or something.”

Larkin opened the car door and hopped out, looking around. “Cool!” He said. “Mom, can I go look around? Please?”

“Look around? Hmm…” Stacy gave the town square a once-over. There were a few booths selling food and trinkets. The people walking around seemed normal, but you could never be sure. “Alright. Just stay where I can see you, ok?”

“Okay!” And with that , Larkin ran off, running up to the nearest booth and getting on his tiptoes to inspect the wares.

Mathew climbed out of the car as well. “Huh.” He lowered his headphones. “This is, like...quaint.”

“Yes, it is,” Stacy said cheerfully. “I’ve never heard you use that word before. Did you read it somewhere?”

“Uh...yeah.” Mathew leaned against the car. “What? It fits.”

“It does. I’m not saying you’re wrong.” Stacy pulled out her phone and typed ‘hotels near me’ into her browser. She squinted. “Huh...no results? That’s odd.”

John pushed open the door and leaned out. “No hotels, huh? Yeah, I think I remember that.”

“So you’ve been here before,” Stacy clarified. She’d been suspecting that.

John nodded. “Stopped by,” he said vaguely.

Stacy dropped it there. It was clear from his tone that John didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she turned her attention back to her search for hotels. The wifi connection was secure, so it wasn’t that the results weren’t loading, it was just that there were no hotels for miles. The closest one was appearing in the next town over, the town they’d left two hours ago. She tried changing the search to motels, but got the same results. “Why don’t they have any hotels? Isn’t that a bit of an oversight?”

“People don’t really stop by here often,” John said. “And I don’t know if they want people to stay.”

Stacy shivered a bit. “That sounds...ominous.”

“Oh it isn’t, really,” John said casually. “It’s for everyone’s good. You remember what I said on the way over here? About the forest?”

Stacy nodded. “After we finish driving through it, don’t go in there ever.”

“Exactly.” John looked away, turning his attention to watching the town square. “I think if people stay here, they might eventually be tempted to do that, so there are no hotels or anything to discourage long stays.”

“But...we’re supposed to be staying here,” Stacy said slowly. “To stay away from Jaq—that...thing.”

“Yeah, but we know better,” John said.

Stacy wasn’t so sure about that, and the sentiment didn’t make her feel better at all. “Still…” she said, slowly changing the subject. “Where are we going to stay? You’ve been here before, where did you stay?”

John blinked. “I...I live in a tent,” he reminded her.

“Ah. Right.”

“Hey Mom,” Mathew piped up. “Why don’t we just ask someone if there’s a place we can stay?”

“Ah. Yes, good idea, Mat,” Stacy said, nodding. There were a whole bunch of locals in the square, surely one of them would have an answer. She straightened, looking around to see who was most approachable. But her eyes landed on someone else. “Oh? It looks like Larkin’s already making friends.”

Larkin had moved on from the booth he was originally interested in, and was now running circles around a different booth, chasing a boy who looked about his age. The two of them stopped and switched direction a couple times, like they were reenacting one of those comedic movie scenes where people tried to duck around a central item only to find their opponent blocking them. Chuckling to herself, Stacy walked over. “Hey Lark. Having fun?”

“Hi Mom!” Larkin stopped the chase. “This is Nick!”

The other boy, shorter than Larkin and with dark curls, grinned and waved at Stacy. “Howya, Lark’s mam?”

“I’m doing very good. It’s nice to meet you, Nick,” Stacy said cheerfully.

“Nice t’meet you too!” Nick said. “How long are you gonna be passin’ through?”

“Yeah, Mom!” Larkin added.

“Oh. Well, we’re actually going to be staying for...a while,” Stacy explained. “But we don’t really have anywhere to stay.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Oh oh oh! You should stay with me! Then me and Lark can play all the time!”

Larkin gasped. “Mom, please? Pleeeaase?”

Stacy smiled, but it contained a hint of sadness. It had been a while since Larkin had so easily hit it off with a kid his age. “Well, I think Nick will have to ask his parents—”

“I can do that!” Nick squealed. He ran over to a nearby booth, selling bundles of yarn and what looked like other sewing or knitting supplies. The booth was being manned by a woman about Stacy’s age, with the same dark curls as Nick. “Mammy! Mammy! Maaaam!” Nick yelled, jumping up and down right by the woman.

“Hmm? What is it, pancake?” The woman asked, looking down and blinking slowly.

“Mammy, this is Larkin Allen and his mam!” Nick said, pointing back at Stacy and Larkin. “They’re gonna be stayin’ for a while. Can they stay with us, Mam? Please?”

The woman looked over at Stacy, giving her a quick once-over. Stacy waved. “Why’re you stayin’ in town, can I ask?” the woman asked in a flat tone.

“Oh! Uhhh…” Stacy tried not to squirm at the awkwardness that question raised. She wasn’t sure how much to say about the weird supernatural stuff that was following them, even if there was apparently weird supernatural stuff in the nearby woods. “My friend suggested it,” she finally decided on, pointing back towards her parked van where John and Mathew were having a chat. “He said this would be a...safe...place,” she said slowly.

“Mm-hmm.” The woman rubbed her eyes. “I see. Well, I s’pose that’s subjective, but if you insist. I’m Colleen. Colleen Iontach. And you are? And your friend?”

“Um, Stacy. Stacy Allen. My friend’s name is...John,” she settled on. “He’s over there with my other son Mathew.”

“Alright, Stacy. If you’re wantin’ t’stay, I’m not gonna stop you.” Colleen shrugged. “And might as well house ye for as long as that is.”

Nick and Larkin gave out a loud cheer, and immediately began buzzing with chatter.

“Oh. Thank you so much,” Stacy said. “Really. I tried to look up hotels, but—”

“There aren’t any nearby, yeah,” Colleen finished. She took a spiral notebook and pencil out of her pocket, scribbling something down and tearing off the page. “This is my address. Head down that street over there to get it. If Nick wants, you mind givin’ him a ride home?”

“Oh, no problem,” Stacy agreed, taking the paper. “Kids? Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, I’d love t’drive home with you!” Nick shouted. “I can tell you if you’re goin’ the wrong way!”

“Alright, let’s go then!” Stacy laughed.

Heading back to the car, Larkin and Nick rushed ahead, with Larkin introducing his new friend and his brother to each other. Stacy went more slowly, taking a moment to read the address.

“So I guess you found a place, then, huh?” John asked.

“Yep.” Stacy folded the paper and put it in her pocket. “We’re heading there now.”

“Great.” John watched the three kids interacting. He frowned. “I think I know...nevermind.”

“Hmm? Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Stacy said.

John shook his head. “Nevermind, just thought this kid looks familiar, but, you know, can’t be sure.”

“Huh. Well, isn’t it a possibility, if you’ve been here before?” Stacy prompted. “Maybe ask him if you’ve met.”

“Can’t,” John said shortly.

“...okay, then. Let’s, uh, go.” Stacy rounded around the car to the driver’s side, hopping inside. John just got stranger and stranger the longer she knew him. But there was a sadness that hovered around him, a sort of...grief, almost. So she wouldn’t be pushing it further or blaming him for sometimes seeming a bit odd.

* * * * * * * * * *

There was nothing extraordinary about the address Colleen had given her. It was a house just like all the others on the street, the only difference between it and them being a smudged chalk drawing on the sidewalk in front. Stacy guessed that was Nick’s work, probably done a day or two earlier.

As soon as the van pulled to a stop, Nick hopped out—a little before the car had completely stopped rolling, in fact. “C’mon, c’mon!” he shouted. “I’ll introduce you to Grandmam!” And without another word, he ran inside.

“Hey, wait up!” Larkin jumped out of the car as well and followed him.

Mathew stared out the car window. “So we’re really gonna stay with these people?” His tone was less than enthusiastic.

Stacy sighed. “Yes, Mat. For now, at least. Why? Is something wrong?”

Mathew shrugged. “No.” He climbed out of the van before Stacy could say anything else.

“...huh.” Stacy stared after him, biting her lip. He’d been pretty quiet on the drive here. Though she supposed there was a reason for that. After all, the last thing they’d seen right before leaving was a monster coming after them. That would be enough to freak anyone else. Larkin seemed fine, but maybe he was just repressing it...

“You okay?” John asked.

Stacy jumped, and tried to smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, just...thinking about the kids.”

“They’re good kids,” John said. He paused, and in a softer voice, added, “They’ll be alright.”

She didn’t respond, silently climbing out of the car and walking towards the house’s front door. After a moment, she heard the van door open and slam close as John followed her.

The inside of the house was as quaint as the outside. Wooden floors and walls papered in a design that looked fairly old. The furniture also looked old, not in that it was run down, but in that the style could’ve been taken out of the 1930’s. There was a huge fireplace, with a rocking chair nearby that Mathew had settled into, once again pulling his headphones on. A wide doorway led to a hallway, through which another arch showed the kitchen, and Nick and Larkin inside talking to someone.

“—and his mam—” Nick glanced over, catching sight of Stacy. “Oh! She’s right here!” He waved. “Hi Ms. Allen! Come meet Grandmam!”

Stacy wandered over and entered the kitchen. Nick was tugging on the skirt of a tall older woman, who had her gray hair pulled up in a bun. The old woman was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping carrots and other vegetables with a large knife. She stopped and looked up once Stacy entered the room. “Um, hello,” Stacy said, waving. “I hope you don’t mind us staying. I’m Stacy, this is Larkin—”

“Hi!” Larkin said.

“My other son, Mathew, is in the front room.” Stacy turned around to point behind her, and saw John standing in the doorway, staring at the old woman with wide eyes. “Oh. And, uh, this is my friend John.”

“Well nice t’meet ye,” the old woman said. “Don’ worry about stayin’ it’s no trouble. We often play inn to people passin’ by. The name’s Roisin Iontach. I see you’ve all met Nicolas, and must’ve met my daughter Colleen.” Roisin smiled warmly, then looked away from Stacy and over at John. She nodded. “Nice t’see ye again.”

John started, and made a strangled choking sound. “You...remember me?” His tone was shocked, but contained a strange hopeful note.

“Can’ remember your name, and I can’ recall your face,” Roisin said idly. “It took me a while to recognize the Evil Eye around ye, and then it came runnin’ back t’me.”

John stared at her, absolutely stunned. Stacy, confused, glanced in between the two of them. “Um...so you two know each other?” she asked, trying to keep up a pleasant tone.

Roisin returned to chopping vegetables. “I suppose we do. Now why don’t you all get your things set up in the guest bedroom? It shoul’ be large enough for all o’you.”

“Oh! Oh! I can show them!” Nick said, grabbing Larkin by the hand and running out. He grabbed Stacy’s hand as well as he passed. “C’mon!”

“Ah! Alright, alright, slow down!” Stacy found herself being pulled down a hallway towards a set of stairs. She glanced back behind her to see John still standing there, frozen, staring at Roisin with a strange expression that she thought might be awe.

* * * * * * * * * *

Things settled into a routine fairly quickly. Stacy and the kids stayed in the guest bedroom of the Iontach house, while John returned to his tent, which he’d set up on a small patch of grass behind the house that wasn’t big enough to be called a yard. The Iontach family seemed friendly, but Stacy was still a bit wary. Of course Larkin seemed happy to hang out with Nick. The two of them made an energetic pair, running around the house and nearby area while Nick showed Larkin everything. Colleen didn’t seem to be home often. She was either at work or running that booth in the town square, which apparently served as an additional source of income. As far as Stacy could tell, Colleen was the only parent in the house; there wasn’t a Mr. Iontach anywhere to be seen.

Roisin sometimes seemed a bit...odd. In a way that couldn’t be explained by age. Stacy couldn’t forget that small interaction the older woman had with John. She kept trying to find the time, or the nerve, to ask Roisin what that was about, what she meant by the Evil Eye. But every time, her anxiety got the better of her. She tried asking John about it, but of course, he refused to say anything.

And besides, Stacy thought there might be something else she had to devote her attention to. Mathew had been quiet ever since arriving in town a few days ago. Very quiet. All he seemed to do was mope around in the guest bedroom listening to music. True, he did that before, but not nearly as often. She was starting to get concerned.

About four days after they’d settled in to stay with the Iontachs, Stacy headed up to the guest bedroom, finding the door closed. She knocked on the solid wood gently. “Hello? Anyone there?” There was no answer, but she knew Mathew was inside, so she pushed open the door and peered inside.

Mathew was lying on the queen-sized bed he’d been sharing with Larkin recently, staring at the ceiling. He was wearing his headphones, but Stacy knew he could still hear her.

She quietly walked in, stopping next to the bed. “Mind if I sit here, Mat?” She waited for Mathew to shrug in response before sitting down on the edge of the bed. The room was quiet for a bit. “Do you want to talk about anything?” she finally asked gently.

Mathew exhaled slowly. He blinked. “Mom,” he finally said. “Are we fucked?”

Stacy made a strangled choking noise. “M-Mathew, I’ve told you, that word isn’t allowed until you’re fifteen. But, um, anyway. What do you mean by that?”

He sighed, and reached up to rub his eyes. “I mean...there was that ghost...thing...in the first house we moved to. That made us move again. Then there was that thing pretending to be your friend. That made us move here. Are we just...just going to have...things...coming after us forever?” His voice went very quiet on that last question.

“Oh, honey,” Stacy said. “No, don’t worry. We’re going to be safe here.”

“But there’s something in the woods,” Mathew whispered, finally looking over at her. “Larkin saw it on our drive here. And John knows about it. And I think everyone here knows about it.”

“Well…” Stacy hesitated. “It’ll be fine as long as we don’t go in the forest, yeah? I think it’s stuck there.”

Mathew sighed again, and looked away.

“...Look.” Stacy scooted closer. “I know, this whole thing is...scary. It’s very scary. And honestly, it still feels kind of unreal. But we’re going to be alright, okay?”

“You don’t know that,” Mathew muttered.

“You’re right, I don’t.” She inched closer still. “But I do know that we’re one smart, brave family. We’ve been through a lot so far, and we can weather through more.” She gave him a small smile. “We’re gonna be okay. And I’ll make sure you and Larkin are safe, no matter what. I promise.”

A pause. Then: “Thanks, Mom,” Mathew said quietly. He was blinking furiously, eyes welling up.

“Is there anything I can do for you now? A snack or anything?”

“Nah, just tell me when dinner’s ready.”

“Will do, Mr. Mattykins.”

Mathew laughed a bit. “Mom, I’m not five.”

“I know, I know,” Stacy relented, grinning. “I just had to. I’ll see you later, okay?” She stood up, and headed out, leaving the door open. Mathew didn’t ask for her to close it.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, Colleen approached her while she was sitting in the living room, reading a book she’d picked up from a local shop. “Hey Stacy?” she asked. “I hate t’do this, but can you watch the yarn booth today? I just got called in for a shift.”

“Hmm? Oh. Um, sure.” Stacy slid a bookmark in between the pages. “Um, where do you work, by the way?”

“Hospital,” Colleen said absentmindedly. “Simon used t’work there, too.”

“Oh. Your...husband?” Stacy asked carefully.

“Yeah. He’s not with us anymore.”

“Yeah…” Stacy looked down. “My husband isn’t, either.”

“I figured.” Colleen’s tone was very dull, as it usually was. “How’d it happen?”

Stacy squeezed her fingers into fists. “Car crash. Drowsy driving.” Even though it was almost two years ago, she felt a lump in her throat. “Um...what about Simon?”

Colleen looked her dead in the eye. “He went into the woods a month before.” She fell quiet. Stacy shifted uneasily in her seat. “He was from out o’town. Like you guys. Anyway, the booth is pretty simple. Here’re all the things ye need.” She pointed to a couple canvas bags on the ground. “Set it up. Casheirin’ should be easy. Good luck.” And she disappeared out the front door.

“Oh. Uh...okay,” Stacy said, hurriedly standing up.

The booth was pretty simple to run. If a customer stopped by, be friendly. If they asked her who she was, she explained that she was new and staying with the Iontachs. Things proceeded quickly from there, and she closed up around seven, gathering up everything unsold and replacing it in the bags to drive back to the house.

Just as she was finishing packing up, she felt a chill run along the back of her neck. Immediately, she stopped, and looked around. The town square was pretty empty. And of the few people here, none of them were looking at her. But she could see, from a distance, a view of the forest, visible due to it being up on higher ground. Squinting at the forest, she took out her phone and opened up the camera, using it to zoom in on the trees. It was still hard to see anything, so far away. But...for a moment, maybe something moved. Maybe. She couldn’t be sure.

Shivering, she quickly headed back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Seven o’clock was already quite dark at this time of year. When she arrived back at the house, parking on the street and heading in, the entire street was bathed in shadows. Stacy hurried inside.

Roisin was sitting in the rocking chair, knitting and generally being the perfect image of a kindly old grandmother. She looked up when Stacy entered, and smiled. “Ah. Welcome back, Ms. Allen. How was the booth?”

“Um, good.” Stacy set the bags down, and was about to head up to the guest bedroom to look for the kids, but she hesitated and turned back. “Hey, um, Roisin. I have a question.”

“Hmm? Ask away, then.”

“So, this morning, Colleen said her husband, Simon, was from out of town,” Stacy said slowly. “And also, I think you said she was your daughter? But I was wondering about your last name, then. You’re all Iontachs, but how’s that possible? Did Colleen go back to her maiden name after her husband...passed?”

“Oh no, Simon took our name,” Roisin said cheerfully.

Stacy blinked. “Ah. So...is that a tradition here? Taking the wife’s last name?”

“No, not exactly,” Roisin continued, pausing in her knitting and focusing on Stacy. “The Iontach name is a powerful one, Ms. Allen. It is old, great, and magnificent. We’re descended from the magicians who settled this valley long, long ago. The only ones left who’re descended from them. So we know t’carry the name on. In marryin’, not takin’ the Iontach name is a, oh, how’s it said...a dealbreaker.”

“Oh. There are...magicians,” Stacy said slowly.

Roisin looked back at her knitting, needles clacking. “Well, perhaps not how ye think. Not like the wizards in fantasy, more like the witches that still exist today. Ye heard of Wicca?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Exactly. Same sort o’practices.”

“Oh.” Stacy hovered awkwardly for a moment. “So...would being descended from witches or whatever be part of the reason why you, uh...made that comment about an Evil Eye to John on our first day here?”

“That poor young man,” Roisin said, shaking her head. “Anyone wit’ the proper gift can tell just by lookin’ at him, yes?”

“Uh...I guess?” Stacy laughed nervously. “I mean, I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“You don’?!” Roisin dropped her knitting and stared at Stacy in utter shock. “Oh jesus, I thought you knew. Your son, the one friends with Nick—I s’pose he gets his sight from his father, then.”

“Wait, what did you say?” That phrase was somehow...familiar. Hadn’t she heard someone say that recently?

“Those of us who know the truth instinct’vely,” Roisin explained. “We can see past the lies and illusions the creatures of the world keep up. I assumed Larkin—nice, strong name, by the way—I assumed he got his sight from you. After all, you are runnin’ here to stay away from one o’them, aren’ you?” The old woman squinted, giving Stacy a once-over. “Yes, ye’ve been marked, same as your friend. Well, not exactly the same. Yours is older, smelling of dust. An’ the hold on ye is quite a bit weaker. Quite a bit.”

“I—I—uh—I mean, yeah but—not—” Stacy stammered. All this new information was a bit much. Larkin could see these things? Her instinct was to balk at the notion, but then she remembered back in the house in Bronainise. Larkin had been the first one to see the thing in there, and had apparently been friendly with it...and he realized right away what Jaqueline was...but really? He got that from his father? “I mean...my husband was really just an average guy. A bit of a dork, but funny and energetic. He couldn’t have been involved in all...this.”

Roisin had begun knitting again. “Well, it’s not like he’d have told ye he coul’ see monsters, woul’ he? Or maybe he didn’ know, himself.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not like it’s of any matter in the end. You’ve been marked all the same, an’ now you’re all here t’hide.”

“Okay, so, one last question,” Stacy hurried to say. “What...what do you mean by marked? Because that...doesn’t sound good.”

Roisin didn’t answer for a long while. She simply sat there, clacking her needles away. The silence went on for so long that Stacy sighed, and turned to leave. She was in the doorway when Roisin called out, “It means one o’them is int’rested in ye. For whatever end purpose. I’m sure you already know what yours is.”

Stacy hesitated in the doorway, then quickly left.

* * * * * * * * * *

She woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, a cold sweat covering her. Was there a pressure on her chest? Had the last few months been a dream? Was she back in that house? Her eyes were closed tight, but she had to know. She had to be sure. Dread poured into her stomach as she cracked open her eyelids—

There was no thing there. No thing staring at her from the foot of the small bed she was sleeping in. No thing lurking in the corner of the Iontachs’ guest bedroom. She let out an audible sigh of relief.

It was fine. There were no whispers hovering in between awake and asleep. In fact, there was no sound at all. The room was very quiet. Honestly, it was a bit odd. Usually Mathew snored a bit. Stacy rolled over to look at the larger bed on the other side of the room where the boys appeared to be fast asleep. Appeared to be. They could always be pretending. In which case, she’d better let them get back to sleep.

She started to roll back over, but paused. A weird something had glinted in the corner of her vision. Her eyes darted around the room, now on high alert as her heartbeat rose. Ah, there it was. A small bit of spider thread in the corner of the window, reflecting the moonlight outside, just visible through a gap in the curtains. See? It was fine. No need to worry.

Stacy closed her eyes and firmly told herself to go back to sleep. Even if dreamland wasn’t so appealing, she needed the rest.

The curtains fluttered in a silent wind.

* * * * * * * * * *

It rained a couple days later. It drizzled all through the cold morning, keeping everyone inside. Roisin showed Stacy how to make “real hot chocolate” (in her own words) on the stove for the three boys stuck in the house. Colleen still went to work; it seemed she was absent most days, leaving the house wearing blue scrubs and returning late at night. Larkin and Nick took a few old board games out of the closet, and managed to convince Mathew to join them.

The rain slowed into occasional droplets sometime in the afternoon, and Stacy grabbed her coat and headed out to the small patch of grass out back where John had pitched his tent. She hadn’t been seeing much of him lately, and she was a bit worried.

She hit on the side of the tent like she was knocking on a door, droplets of water getting her hands wet. Inside, John cried out. Movement rustled, and the tent entrance unzipped. “Can you please, please not do that?” John asked, sticking his head out.

“Sorry,” Stacy said, taking a step back. “Just wanted to, uh, see what was up with you. With the rain and everything, maybe it got wet out here.”

John shrugged. “I’ve been in worse weather. And with worse shelter than a tent, too.”

“Are you sure?” Stacy prodded. “Because you can come in the house, you know.” She hesitated. “I mean, unless you don’t like them or something. I’m not gonna make you.”

“They’re fine,” John said, rolling his eye.

“I mean, I just—Roisin knows you, so you’ve clearly met them before, I wouldn’t want to drag up old wounds or anything.”

“Stace, if you want to ask me what the deal is between me and the old lady, just ask, you don’t have to dodge around the subject.”

“...uhhh,” Stacy felt her face grow red with embarrassment. “So...you’ve been in this town before.”

“Foraois Hollow, yeah.” John scooted up close to the tent entrance and crossed his legs. “How do you think I knew it would be a safe place to hide from the thing in the red hood?”

“And there’s that, too,” Stacy added. “Don’t get me wrong, I am really glad we haven’t seen...that...in the week and a half we’ve been here. But why?” She glanced through the rainy skies, and pointed at the trees of the forest, up on the hills. The fog still lingered around their trunks. “Because of that? Is the forest, like, alive or something?”

“Or something,” John said casually. “Look, just understand that it’s really territorial, but it doesn’t come into town, so you’re good.”

“I—okay.” Stacy decided to drop it there for now. There was time to talk about that later. “Did you, uh, stay with these guys the first time you passed through, too? Or did you just know Roisin? Actually it’s probably that, otherwise Nick or Colleen would’ve said something—”

“No, I knew them,” John said. He was looking down at his lap, fingers picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans. “Didn’t know any of them really well, but they were nice enough to let me stay a few nights. Couldn’t stay long, cause this was before—” He suddenly stopped. “I-I wasn’t expecting any of them to recognize me. The fact that Roisin did is a miracle.”

“She said you were marked by this Evil Eye thing,” Stacy said, prodding gently. “That she remembered that. Apparently she has some sort of weird sight. Maybe the others do, too, but maybe they’re not as practiced at it?” It was a flimsy reason for why the other two Iontachs couldn’t remember John, but it was all she could come up with.

“She said that before, too,” John muttered, pulling a thread loose.

“Uh-huh.” Stacy nodded. “Um...I talked to her a few days ago, and she said that…” She hesitated to say it, but forced it out. “That I was somehow...marked...too. A-and that meant that something was...interested in me.” John didn’t say anything, still looking down. “It—it’s gotta be that thing from the house, right? Jaqueline—or that thing, whatever, it said as much. I mean, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Is...is that why you came here, before? To get away from whatever...it was that...?” She trailed off, realizing she was basically thinking out loud and not expecting an answer.

To be fair, John didn’t really seem that ready to give her an answer either way. He hadn’t moved, still pulling at the loose thread. Looking closer, his hands were now shaking. John took a deep breath, and looked up at Stacy. “Look...there’s not much to say about it. I was...I was on the run, came across a tiny town, and...found something in the forest. Found there were more...of them. Out there.” His voice lowered, barely audible. “And even they don’t want anything to do with me.”

Stacy was quiet. “I’m...sorry, John.”

“My name is ìŗĆºŷĻ.”

“Uh...sorry, I couldn’t catch that.”

“Nevermind.” John’s voice was heavy and tired. He backed up into the tent. “Thanks for saying I could come in. But I’ll just...just stay out here. See you later.” And he zipped the entrance back up.

“Um...see you.” Stacy turned and walked away, footsteps splashing in a puddle that marked the boundary of the grass and the paved stones that covered the rest of the house's “backyard.” She looked around at the rain pattering on the ground. Or...actually, there was no pattering to be heard. No splashing, either. Stacy blinked, and reached up to clear her ears. Soon after she did, the normal sounds of the world returned. That was...odd. Very odd. Was her hearing going? If it was, it was probably the result of stress. Or...was it something else?

She spun in a circle, looking for anything weird. But everything looked the same. Nobody was out except for her, not even driving about. Nothing was moving within eyeshot. Still, she felt uneasy as she headed back inside the house.

On the house’s roof, a loose shingle fell to the ground as if disturbed, yet it made no sound as it crashed and broke.

* * * * * * * * * *

The rain stopped by nightfall, leaving slick puddles that reflected the yellow light from the street lanterns. It was about ten o’clock. And Stacy was starting to grow a bit...concerned.

In the time she and the boys had been staying with the Iontachs, Colleen had always been home by nine thirty on the days she worked. It was possible that she’d had to stay late. Didn’t nurses often have to do that? But something didn’t sit right with that.

Larkin and Nick had gone to sleep, Mathew was hanging out in the house’s office, and Roisin was in her bedroom, getting ready to go to bed as well. Stacy was alone in the living room, playing a mindless bubble game on her phone and glancing at the front window every so often. Look back at the phone. Then at the window. At the phone. Then the window. Phone. Window. Phone. Wind—

Stacy gasped, almost dropping her phone. Colleen was staring at her through the window. She waved. Stacy waved back. And Colleen disappeared, opening the front door. “Stacy?” she asked.

“Y-yeah.” Stacy tried to laugh. “You scared me, jeez.”

“Sorry.” Colleen smiled easily. “Didn’t mean to.” She paused. “Hey, this might sound a bit strange, but I think I’ve found something you need to see.”

“Um...yeah, it does sound a bit strange,” Stacy said slowly. “What is it?”

Colleen glanced over her shoulder. “Well, I think it has to do with why you’re here. What you’re running from. But I need you to see it to make sure.”

Stacy perked up, shoving her phone in her pocket. “Okay, but what is it?”

Colleen hissed through her teeth. “Difficult to explain. And that’s saying something, considering what I’ve seen. It’s...dusty. Strange in this rain, isn’t it? Smells odd, too.”

Dust. Stacy stiffened. “Hang on a second, I need to get something.” She stood up and quickly headed upstairs, sneaking into the guest bedroom and doing her best trying not to wake up Larkin, who should be fast asleep by this time. She opened the dresser drawer and pulled out her handgun and holster, putting it on. Glancing over at Larkin, she sneaked back out and headed down.

“A gun?” Colleen was standing in the exact same place as before. “Didn’t know you had one. Isn’t that a bit unsafe, with the children and all?”

“At this point, it’s less safe to have one than to not,” Stacy muttered, pulling on her coat. “Alright. Lead the way.”

Colleen smiled, a quick movement like someone was pulling on her face to make it. “Great. We’d better be careful, though, it’s a bit...odd. These things could be dangerous, but I’m sure you know that.” She turned and walked quickly out the door, Stacy hurrying to follow her.

“It’s some ways away,” Colleen said, briskly walking down the street. “Came across it on my walk home.”

“Okay. A-anything else?” Stacy asked, panting a bit. Colleen was really walking quick. She didn’t know she was that fast. “Like...what size is it?”

“Oh, about yea big,” Colleen pantomimed a box. “The size of a human head, I’d say.”

Stacy nodded, and fell silent as the two of them turned a street corner. She didn’t exactly appreciate that comparison; it made her imagine all sort of gruesome things this surprise could be.

“Just a block or two farther.” Colleen sped up more. Stacy broke into a light jog. How was Colleen simply walking this fast?

They rounded another corner, and Stacy immediately noticed something on the sidewalk, sitting in a circle of light caused by the street lanterns. “That’s a box,” she muttered. “It was difficult to explain that it was a box?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Colleen said She’d stopped walking, and now looked reluctant to get closer.

Stacy took a deep breath, and walked up to the box. It was a cardboard cube, covered in the gray dust that had plagued the house in Bronainise. A sharp, alcoholic smell was coming from it. She reached out, and stopped. Instead she grabbed her gun and leaned forward, prodding the cardboard lid with the end of the barrel. Nothing seemed to happen, but she still didn’t touch it. Carefully, she used the gun to push the lid off the box, dust falling to the wet ground, but not sticking. She leaned forward and peered into the now open box. And frowned. “There’s...nothing inside.”

“Oh? How odd,” Colleen said from her spot at the edge of the light.

Standing up, Stacy looked around. There wasn’t anyone nearby. Or anything, really. And she couldn’t hear anything either. Which...actually, that was kind of strange. Her eyes locked on a tree in the distance, leaves blowing in the wind. And she could feel the same breeze against her face. But she couldn’t hear it. She turned her attention to Colleen, who was standing almost perfectly still. “Have you seen anything...weird around?” she asked slowly. “Besides the box.”

“Not a thing,” Colleen said, shaking her head. “Why? Anything in particular you’re concerned about?”

“Uh...not really.” She was just noticing it now, but Colleen was speaking a bit...differently. Was it just her, or had her accent faded? “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Colleen asked politely.

“I...exactly. I don’t hear anything.” Stacy paused. “Wait a second.” She tilted her head. There were faint strains of...was that music? Where was it coming from? She tightened her hold on the gun as she tried to find the source of it, turning around. She stopped turning once she realized it...was it coming from Colleen? Stacy froze.

Colleen tilted her head. “Is something wrong, Stacy?”

“Um...so, h-how’d you know that this box was related to me?” Stacy asked slowly.

“Oh, I had a feeling,” Colleen said dismissively. “Misery has this feel to it, you understand?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What did you say?” she asked breathlessly.

“You heard me.”

Misery loves company. That was what the thing in the red hood had said. And there was something about the way it was said...and the way Colleen said it now...Stacy stepped back and squinted at Colleen. No, it was definitely her. Her appearance wasn’t fading, details turning to vague impressions of a face like Jaqueline’s had. But she wasn’t acting normal either. Standing too stiff. Stacy took another step back.

“You’re looking a bit nervous, Stacy,” Colleen took a step forward. “Maybe you should calm down. Take a break.”

Stacy started to raise her gun, but stopped halfway through. This still was Colleen, wasn’t it? She couldn’t shoot her.

As if she knew this, Colleen smiled. “No need to be harsh. After all, doesn’t she have a kid? A gunshot would put her ability to provide for him at risk.”

Stacy took a few more steps back, chills running down her spine as she managed to point the gun. But still, she couldn’t do it.

Something glinted in the street light. Stacy’s eyes darted towards it, looking for it again. She couldn’t quite grasp it, but it was hovering above Colleen. What was it? Her mind went to some sort of thread, but that was impossible. Except that...it certainly appeared to be some sort of string, rising up into the air, heading toward the street lantern above her head.

Another set of chills ran down her skin. With trepidation, she looked up.

Her eyes widened as she tried to scream, but no sound came out.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Iontachs didn’t have much in the way of computer tech. Mathew figured John would like that; he seemed to have a thing about that. But it meant that the only place Mathew could watch YouTube was on the clunky desktop in the office. He sat in the tall desk chair and kicked his feet, headphones plugged into the speakers as he looked for a new let’s play to watch.

The door opened, and Mathew jumped and spun around. Stacy was peeking into the room. “Uh, hi Mom,” he said.

“Hey Mathew,” she said cheerfully. “Do you know where your brother is?”

“Uh...isn’t he still in bed?” Larkin wasn’t really the type to try and stay up late. Though maybe that would change when he got older.

“Ohhh.” Stacy nodded. “That would make sense.” She backed up, then reappeared in the doorway. “While I go get him, do you mind going out to the car?”

Mathew slowly unplugged his headphones. “Um. Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Stacy sighed. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to. You know why, yes?” She paused meaningfully. “Anyway, get ready and go on out. I’ll be there soon with your brother.” She backed up and disappeared for good.

Mathew slung his headphones around his neck and pushed the desk chair backwards. He grabbed his phone and charger from where it was plugged into the walk, checking to see if it was full. It was, so he put it and the cord into his hoodie pocket. He swiveled around, ready to stand up. And then he didn’t. His heart had sped up, stomach starting to squirm. What happened to cause this? Were those monsters back? He physically shuddered as an image of the thing in the red hood twisting its head into place flashed in his mind. If that was the case, they’d better hurry.

He went right out to the car, climbing into the back seat of the unlocked van. Staring out the window at the rainy street, his eyes wandered over to the alley that would lead around the back of the house. Was John going to come with them? He did the last two times. But then again, he wasn’t really involved with this, was he? Well, a little bit. He did save them from the thing in the last city. But the thing hadn’t been...after him. So maybe there was no reason for him to come with. Still, Mathew thought John was kind of cool...you know, for an adult.

The door opened again, and Stacy placed a sleeping Larkin, wearing pajamas borrowed from Nick, in the other seat. “There we are. Oh, we need the buckle, don’t we?” She slid the seatbelt across him.

“You didn’t wake him up?” Mathew asked.

“No no, let’s let him sleep.” Stacy closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat, quickly climbing in and starting the car. “And here we go.”

The van rolled down the dark streets of the city, tracing the same route it had taken on the way into town two weeks ago. Mathew stared idly out the window as they passed beyond the town limits and up into the forest. Mist curled across the ground, forming strange shapes. He shifted uneasily. This place was freaky. Wasn’t fog supposed to disappear after rain? Maybe he was getting that wrong. In any case, this just felt weird. He glanced over at Larkin, still fast asleep. Quietly, he leaned over and shook his shoulder gently.

After a bit of this, Larkin stirred. He blinked open his eyes and looked around, obvious confusion causing his face to scrunch up. “Mat,” he whispered, leaning closer. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I don’t know,” Mathew whispered back. “Mom said that we had to leave and we all got in the car and drove away.”

“Aw.” Larkin’s face fell. “What happened?”

“Dunno.” Mathew shrugged. “Ask Mom.”

Larkin leaned around the seat of the car to look at Stacy in the driver’s seat. She didn’t look back at him, eyes fixed on the road. Larkin’s eyes widened a bit, and he scooted a bit closer to Mathew. “We should get out of the car,” he whispered.

“What? Why?” Mathew asked.

“Mom’s being...weird,” Larkin said, glancing back over at her.

“You’re weird,” Mathew muttered.

“No you.”

The two of them straightened. Mathew looked out the window again. Okay, if they wanted to get out of the car, then obviously they needed it to stop first. He got an idea. Doubling over, he groaned and clutched his stomach. “Mooom, I think I’m getting carsick.”

Stacy didn’t even look at him.

“Mom?” Mathew leaned forward. “Mom, I’m gonna throw up.”

Still no response. A sudden chill ran down Mathew’s spine. He looked over at Larkin in a silent plea for help. Larkin thought about it. Then he unbuckled his seat belt, stood up, and screamed right into Stacy’s ear. Yet she didn’t even flinch.

“Shit,” Mathew said under his breath.

“Don’t say that, it’s a bad word,” Larkin said automatically, then moved on. “What d’we do?”

Mathew glanced out the window again, then turned his attention to the door itself. It wasn’t locked...and Mathew knew that their van didn’t have a child lock...if it was necessary, he could technically...

Deciding it was necessary, Mathew undid his seatbelt, pushed the car door open, and jumped out.

Luckily, the car wasn’t going too fast. But he still fell hard, skin scraping on the cracked asphalt and bruising his bones on the ground as he tumbled for a good while. Eventually he lost momentum, staring up at the branches overhead and trying to get his breath. “Owww…” he groaned. Well, he would never be doing that again.

He sat up, and looked down the road, seeing the red tail lights of the car even through the mist. Those lights were moving farther away, but then they stopped. The car started to back up, but then one of the doors opened and Larkin darted out, running farther into the forest. The car braked suddenly, and Stacy jumped out. “Get back here!” she shrieked, running after Larkin. Mathew watched this happen, feeling a bit disconnected to the situation. It was like something from a movie, or a cutscene from a game. Not quite real.

And then he saw a shadow move. His eyes naturally glanced toward it—up toward it. He let out a soft gasp as he realized the shadow was on top of the car. Had it been there the whole time?!

The shadow stopped, and he had the sudden feeling it was looking at him. Mathew scrambled to his feet and ran, heading deeper into the woods.

Dark trees passed by him, almost indistinguishable from the shadows coating the forest floor. Mathew tripped over roots and undergrowth that was invisible beneath the white mist. Branches caught on his hoodie, but he kept running, heart pounding. What was happening?! What was wrong with his mom?! What was up with that shadow?

After a while, he realized he had no idea where he was, and he slowed to a stop. Panting, he tried to look for anything distinguishable, but everything was darkness and trees and mist. His mind immediately went to wolves and bears in the woods. He’d have no idea they were coming. And then he remembered that shadow, and the things he’d heard in town about the forest, and his stomach started to sink. What was he doing out here? What was he thinking?

And then the image of Larkin running in the other direction returned to him, and he felt a sudden blast of cold fear seep into his bones. He’d left Larkin in these woods. Alone, with who knows what else here. Immediately, he turned around, pivoting on his feet to try and keep track of where he was, and headed back. Eventually he’d reach the road, right?

No, apparently not.

He’d been stumbling in the dark, trying to keep a straight line for what felt like twenty minutes, and he finally had to conclude that he was lost. Frustrated, he punched the nearest tree, then cried out. This was the worst. It was an actual nightmare. He hurt all over from jumping out of the car, he was lost in a strange forest, his mom was acting weird and scary, and Larkin was somewhere out there alone. Tears started to choke his throat. He wiped his eyes.

“Are you lost?”

Mathew cried out, flailing for a moment before pressing his back to the tree he’d punched. He looked around, eyes straining to see anything. The only thing that was really visible in the pitch-black forest was the fog...which was actually a little strange. His vision traced the patterns in the mist, watching it swirl. It seemed to be swirling around a particular spot. No...there was something there that it was spinning around.

“You look a little lost.”

Mathew jumped again. The voice was coming from the thing in the middle of the swirling mist. He looked up, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. If he had to guess, it looked like a person. It was vaguely shaped that way, at least. “Um...maybe?” he said, voice small.

“You’re just a child. What are you doing in the woods?” The person-shaped shadow walked closer, looking like it was gliding across the ground.

“Uh...I’m...my mom...” Mathew tilted his head back to look at the shadow’s face. That head wasn’t exactly person-shaped. It looked more like an animal...but it might’ve been a mask. “She, uh...drove us out here, and, uh...”

“‘Us’?” The shadow prompted.

“My brother and me,” Mathew said. Was it weird that he wasn’t freaking out? He was a bit on edge, but shouldn’t he be panicking more? “He...ran the other way, I’m—”

“You’re looking for your brother.” The shadow flashed a smile. No, it had been smiling the whole time. “I can help you find him, if you’d like.”

Mathew hesitated. Little alarm bells were going off in his head, and he could practically hear his mom and dad’s voices reminding him to never go anywhere with a stranger. “I don’t need help. But, uh, if you were to say where he is out loud, I, um...wouldn’t stop you.”

“Hmm?” The shadow tilted its head. “I think you do need help.”

“No, I-I’m fine,” Mathew said, voice cracking. He started to edge around the tree. “I’m going to, uh, go now.” And he pushed away, quickly walking in the other direction. The hairs on the back of his neck told him the shadow was following him.

“It’s very dark out, isn’t it?” The mist was swirling faster, rising from around Mathew’s knees to around his hips.

“Uh...yeah,” Mathew said.

“And you’re going in the wrong direction. Your brother went north.”

Mathew stopped walking. “How do you know that?”

Something grabbed the back of his hoodie and started pulling. “We should head this way.”

“H-hey!” Mathew squirmed, reaching back to try and loosen the grip. But his hands felt nothing but the mist. “Let go!”

“Why?”

“I don’t—I don’t want to be pulled!”

“You want to find your brother, though.”

“Yes, but don’t—I’ll just follow you, okay? Let go!”

“Sounds perfect.” The thing let go of him, and he whirled around to see it standing very close, looking down at him and grinning. The mist was barely moving now, dropping down to hover around his knees. “Come on. This way.” The person-shaped thing turned and headed to the left, leaving the mist agitated in its wake. Mathew hesitated. He took a single step in the other direction, but the mist rose into the air, tendrils reaching out. It felt like it shoved him away. Mathew gasped gently, then hurried to follow the thing. Clearly there wasn’t much of an option here.

The forest was oddly quiet. He could hear his footsteps, rustling the undergrowth. But nothing else. And he couldn’t see anything either. “Um...is there any way there could be...light?” he asked tentatively. Maybe asking the strange forest creature questions was a bad idea, but he was tired of stumbling around.

“You tend to carry lights in your pockets now.” Luckily, the thing didn’t seem to mind.

“What? Oh.” Mathew reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his phone, switching on the flashlight. A circle of white light lit up the forest, bouncing off the mist. He scanned the nearby surroundings, and—

“Aaak!” He jumped back, fumbling to keep hold of his phone. Once it was securely in his grasp, he pressed a hand to his chest to try and calm down. “Mom?!”

Stacy looked a bit of a mess, a few stray leaves in her hair and dirt on her coat like she’d fallen down. And there seemed to be the faint sound of...music coming from nearby. Staticky, tinny music, like it was on an old record. Instead of acknowledging her son at all, she looked at the shadow with wide eyes. “I’ve lost the smaller one.”

“Really?” Though the thing didn’t stop grinning, it sounded a bit disappointed.

“She isn’t fast!” Stacy protested. “Or at least not faster than the smaller one!”

“You should’ve dropped her and grabbed him yourself.”

“What’s done is done,” Stacy said dismissively. “Where did he go?”

“This way,” the shadow said, a bit smugly.

“What’s going on?!” Mathew asked, voice rising. He tried to point the flashlight beam at the shadow, but barely caught the edge of something—fabric or fur or more mist, he couldn’t tell—before it started off in another direction. “Mom? What’s happening? Where’s Larkin?”

Stacy didn’t answer him, following after the shadow. Mathew stared after her. Tears started to well in his eyes, and he blinked them away. This was not his mom. But he still followed after her, hoping that if they found Larkin, he’d be able to...he didn’t know exactly what. Do something.

They walked for a few minutes more. Mathew kept scanning the forest with his flashlight, lighting up the mist around them. The strange music seemed to now be coming from all around, a bit louder now. Until suddenly, the shadow stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Stacy asked.

“I was too focused on the boy,” the shadow said, its voice low. “I didn’t notice it.”

“Notice what?” Stacy said impatiently.

“Uh, it’s probably talking about me,” a familiar voice said. Mathew gasped, and spun around. His flashlight beam landed on two figures, one taller and one small. “Oh jesus, be careful with that,” John said, blinking in the sudden light. “You could blind someone.”

“John? What’re you doing here?” Mathew asked. He tilted his light down a bit, now looking at the smaller figure standing half-behind the man. “Hey, Lark.”

“Hi Mat,” Larkin said, waving a bit. He glanced at Stacy and the person-shaped shadow, and shrank back a bit.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the shadow hissed.

“Yet here I am,” John said casually. “Anyway, Mathew, I’m here because I noticed your mom leaving for some reason. Then coming back and grabbing you two, without saying anything to anyone. Not like her, y’know? Then I noticed the reason for such out-of-character behavior.” He glanced over at Stacy, then moved his attention upwards, into the branches of the trees above her. “You shouldn’t be here either. Isn’t Forest Guardian here supposed to be, like, super territorial?”

“There are exceptions to every rule,” Stacy said plainly.

“Get out,” the shadow snarled, still glaring at John.

“Fucking make me, why don’t you?!” John snapped. “Go ahead. Throw me out of here with your freaky fog.” He waved at the nearby mist, which twisted out of the way. It was like it didn’t want to touch him. No, it definitely didn’t want to touch him. There was a small circle of clear area around him, free of mist. Larkin was standing barely inside the clearing, holding onto John’s jacket like it was a lifeline. “No, you can’t. Cause you’re afraid. That’s the one fucking perk I get with this, and you can bet your ass I’m gonna use it. If you have one.” He laughed, then looked back over at Mathew. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice softer.

“Uh...yeah,” Mathew said. “Just...confused. And freaked out.”

“You jumped out of a car,” Larkin reminded him.

“I mean, yeah, but I got better—”

Stacy growled, and lunged forward, grabbing Mathew by the arm. He yelped, and tried to push her away, but her grip was iron. “We can just get the two of them, right?” she said in a suddenly raspy voice.

“It wants all three,” the shadow said.

“Can’t we grab the smaller one after dropping off these two?”

“Oh my god, this is still to do with the thing in the house, isn’t it?!” John kicked the ground. “Jesus! How far is it gonna follow her? Is it even really worth it at that point?”

“Oh, you would know, wouldn’t you?” the shadow drawled.

“Let go!” Mathew screeched, now slapping Stacy’s arm with his free hand. He tried kicking her shin, but Stacy might as well have been a statue. “Mom! What’s wrong with you?! You’re—you’re scaring me!”

Stacy blinked. Something in her eyes seemed to flicker, and her grip loosened. Just a bit, but Mathew managed to pull away, falling onto the ground. He was already running before he even got to his feet, and soon was standing next to Larkin and John. Larkin immediately switched to clinging to him.

“What was that?!” The shadow hissed, now looking into the branches above Stacy’s head.

“Some strong emotion,” Stacy said in a strangled voice. She was shaking slightly. The still-playing music was slower, a bit distorted. “I have it under control now.”

John stepped out in front of the two younger boys. “No, no, we’re not doing this. You don’t have anyone under control. You’re going to let her go and they’re going to leave here all fine and happy.”

“Or what?” The shadow asked. The mist rose, reaching Larkin’s shoulders and Mathew’s waist. It spun in hypnotizing, agitated patterns. The music distorted further, now sounding hellish.

John hesitated, and said nothing. Mathew looked between him and Stacy. There had to be something they could do about this. Why was his mom acting like this? And why was everyone talking to the tree branches? Was there something up there? Curious, Mathew raised his phone, pointing the flashlight into the branches above Stacy’s head. “Holy shit!” He gasped, nearly dropping the phone.

It looked like a person. Sort of. More like something made to look like a person. With strings dangling from limbs and spirals where eyes should be. It was crouched in the tree branches, and as the light shined on it, it scurried over to another tree, the strings tangling and untangling. Stacy walked with it, always standing beneath it.

John’s eyes widened, and he turned to the boys, pulling them close. “Okay, I got an idea,” he whispered. “But you two need to run when I say to, alright? Go straight that way, eventually you’ll hit the road. And watch out for the mist, okay?”

Larkin nodded, but Mathew just gaped. “What?”

“Just do it, okay?” John hissed, turning around to face the shadow and Stacy. “Okay, so you’re hiding in the trees like a coward. Good to know.”

“Who said I was hiding?” Stacy hissed.

“Oh yeah, also you’re using someone else’s voice. Real brave there.”

The shadow snarled. “Not all of us are capable of the same feats, ĸø¹ŭ§. And not everything is as lucky as you are.”

“Yes, I’m very lucky,” John said darkly. “Which is why—run!”

Larkin caught on immediately, grabbing Mathew, still a bit confused, by the hand and running in the direction John had pointed earlier. Behind them they heard an animalistic scream, and the music rose in volume and speed. Mathew glanced over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of John starting to climb a tree. Then he saw the shadow looking after them and he faced front again, picking up the pace.

Around them, the mist rose and thickened, covering both their heads. Breathing became difficult, like trying to breathe with your face buried in a pillow. They tripped over unseen obstacles on the forest floor, tree trunks coming out of nowhere to block their progress. Mathew gripped Larkin’s hand tight. They were still going straight, weren’t they? It was hard to tell. It felt like something was grabbing them—like there were hands in the mist, made of the mist, snatching at their clothes and yanking them off course. But the music was growing quieter, more distant. So they had to be making progress.

Suddenly, Mathew felt the forest floor beneath his feet turn to hard asphalt. The grip of the mist lessened, becoming a little less thick, though tendrils still wrapped around them to pull them back.

“Okay, the car has to be here somewhere, right?” Mathew panted.

“Look!” Larkin pointed to their right. Two yellowish lights were barely visible through the fog.

“Great, let’s go.” The two of them stumbled through the mist until the front of the van was visible. Mathew put his phone back in his pocket and put his hand on the car, walking around the side. “Here we are, front seat,” he muttered, pulling open the door to the passenger’s seat. “In you go.”

“Larkins first,” Larkin said cheerfully.

“It’s ‘ladies first,’ actually. I didn’t know you were a lady.”

“I could be. I’d be a very pretty lady.” Larkin hopped into the car and climbed over the seat into the back. “You wouldn’t be. You’d be too sad and weird.”

“Well you’d be too tiny and weird,” Mathew started climbing in as well. “Though I guess—” Something grabbed his ankle and he screamed. He looked behind him, but saw nothing except more mist, spinning and twisting. The thing around his ankle started pulling, and he grabbed the edge of the seat to brace himself. But it was persistent. He shook his leg and tried to pull himself in. Larkin gasped, and grabbed his arm, helping to pull him inside. They made slow progress, but he felt more things wrapping around his legs. “Let go of me!” He yelled, kicking his legs. With one final yank, he tumbled inside, and immediately turned around to slam the door shut.

“Oh my god,” Larkin whispered. “Are you okay, Mat?”

“Y-yeah, fine,” Mathew said, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his heartbeat. He looked out the car windows, seeing nothing but fog. “Um...now what?”

“Do we wait for John or Mom?” Larkin asked.

“I...I guess so.” Mathew paused. “Oh, she left her keys in the car.”

“Mat, you can’t drive,” Larkin said, poking him.

“I can in, like, two years.”

“But we’re not in two years, we’re now.”

“Look, all I’m saying is I could probably figure it out in an emergency.”

The two of them fell silent, looking at the mist outside the car. Minutes passed. “Poor faces,” Larkin muttered.

“What are you talking about?” Mathew asked, looking at him.

“The faces in the fog. I mean, sometimes there’s hands too. But mostly faces.” Larkin pointed out the window, tapping the glass.

Mathew squinted. Then he gasped. There were vague faces in there, appearing in swirls then melting back into the fog. “Oh god. It’s like soul sand. That’s creepy.”

“No, it’s sad,” Larkin insisted. “Cause the demon with the cat face probably put them there.”

“Uh...yeah, probably.” Staring out at the mist, Mathew sat straight up. “Wait a second. There’s...there’s something there,” he whispered. Something was moving the mist around, disturbing it and causing tendrils to move about. “Hang on.” Mathew started looking through the car, pulling open the glove box. There had to be something to use as a weapon, didn’t there? Something heavy, or—

A hand pressed against the driver’s side window, another one waving away the fog. Mathew jumped. Stacy’s face slowly came into view, pressing against the glass. Her eyes widened as she saw Mathew and Larkin inside, both huddled as far away from her as possible. She raised her hands, gave a smile, and slowly opened the driver’s door and slid inside. “Um...hey, pumpkins,” she said softly.

“Mom?” Mathew asked, voice squeaking.

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s...I’m so sorry.” Stacy covered her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t mean—that wasn’t me, I would never ever do anything like—I didn’t want to scare you, I—”

Mathew stared at her. Was his mom...crying? Well, he supposed that wasn’t too odd. She cried when the news about their dad came in, and many times after that, staying up late at night with a bottle. She never wanted either of them to see it. “Mom…” he said slowly. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t your fault,” Larkin said, slowly scooting closer. “It was that freaky puppet thing.”

Stacy wiped at her eyes. “Thank, boys,” she whispered. “We...we should get out of here. I think the fog is getting even thicker.” And she reached down to start the car.

“What about John?” Mathew asked.

“He can handle himself,” Stacy said patiently. She glanced out the side window. “Those things won’t bother him. But they will bother us.”

The car rolled forward. Stacy gripped the steering wheel tight, eyes wide and staring out the front. They weren’t going that fast, but for the limited visibility, it was as quick as they could go without worrying about running off the road.

It felt like forever before they finally broke out of the thick fog. As soon as they were clear, Stacy hit the gas, and the van shot forward. Mathew and Larkin glanced at each other, then quickly put their seatbelts on. “Mom,” Mathew finally said. “This is...this is because of the ghost thing from the house, right?”

Stacy didn’t answer for a bit. Then she nodded. “Yes, I think it is.” She laughed drily. “I guess they all know each other, or something.” She paused. “Don’t worry. We’re...we’re going to go farther away this time. It’ll be fine.”

“Mom,” Mathew said. “Don’t...”

The silence filled the car for a moment. “Don’t what, Mat?” Stacy asked.

Mathew let out a long breath. “Don’t...do that again.”

She smiled sadly. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Two days later, a mom and her two kids were standing on the deck of a ferry, watching the gray clouds overhead. Stacy sighed. She would’ve preferred to fly back home, back to the town they’d lived in before they knew anything about things in houses or forests. Bad memories be damned. But her savings were quickly running dry, and the flight over an entire ocean would’ve cost a lot more. “You two doing okay?” she asked.

Mathew had his headphones on, listening to music on his phone. He nodded. Larkin was in the process of sitting down and poking his head through the railings to look down at the water below, giving a quick thumbs-up. Both of them were wearing new outfits she’d bought at the last town.

“Good, good.” Stacy sighed, looking back at land. It was slowly shrinking into the distance. She folded her arms, feeling the handle of her gun hidden beneath her coat. “We’re all...good.” They all went silent and watched the shore fade away.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #tw: horror #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #brigid writes fanfiction #horrorseptics

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teeztheflag · 4 years

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E r s t e s M a l (First time)

⋆ pairing: vampire!yeo sang x reader (poly!ateez)

⋆ genre: vampire au, fluff, smut

⋆ warnings: explicit smut, blood, biting

⋆ words: 3,900

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Yeo Sang was the last one to mate with you. His brothers already hyping him up since the last six months. At the beginning you didn’t know he was a virgin and your other mates nagging the poor boy about it several times without you really noticing.

One time when Min Gi and you were making out in your living room Yeo Sang accidentally heard your kissing noises and walkend in the moment Min Gi was tossing your shirt away leaving you in your bra. Said boy blushed so hard and walked away as fast es he could to calm down his nerves.

Another time you and Hong Joong were driving with Yeo Sang in his car you and the leader kissing eachother at the back he couldn’t stop himself to occasionally watch you two from the rearview mirror. When Hong Joong’s hand disappeared inside your skirt the young vampire increased the speed of the car Hong Joong giving him a questioning glare from the backseat.

Your relationship with Yeo Sang was build since the beginning when your mates decided to take you to their mansion. You remember the first weeks where you wouldn’t talk with any of them and constantly trying to escape the blood drinking creatures. And you still remember the first time you learned to know how strong vampires were. After being dragged back to the house by another vampire standing guard outside you decided to blow him a fistful in the face. It was one of the dumbest decisions you‘ve ever made because you could swear something snapped in your arm that moment.

You didn’t want the help of your mates and lived three days with a piercing pain in your hand. Yeo Sang was the first one who was able to talk with you and get to know you. The vampire didn’t rush things and kept a comfortable distance. When you started to trust him you let him help with the pain. Since that day you grew fond of the boy.

But except from occasionally stealing shy kisses from eachother when no one was looking you didn’t get very far. He was one of the boys who wasn’t overly excited to mate with you or do something else. He just enjoyed the time with his mate and mostly handed you like you were made out of glass.

So it surprised you that one friday morning he invited you to a trip to the mountains without your other mates. Usually they tend to have you home where it’s safe and where they can watch over you. Going outside only was okay if someone occupied you and the others would get impatient quickly when it took longer.

You were excited and happy to leave the place not being outside of the town since the day they literally captured you inside their home. Well, it was your home now, too.

You packed your bags and waited downstairs for Yeo Sang to get ready. Min Gi and Jong Ho already clinged onto you and cried because of your soon departure.

„Be safe! And don’t leave Yeo Sang‘s side! And call us when you arrive!“ Min Gi took Jong Ho by his shoulders and moved him away from you earning a death glare from the shorter boy.

„And don’t forget to eat properly! When you’re hiking you will burn a lot of calories! So eat something every pause you make!“

„Yes, Dad.“ You chuckled to yourself at their over protectiveness.

„What was that? I am your only Daddy babygirl.“ Seong Hwa floated down the stairs and kissed you on your cheek. His statement caused you to look to down to the ground trying to hide the pink tint of your cheeks. Knowing he was the cause of that left the black haired boy with a big and proud smile.

Soon all the other boys arrived to say goodbye. Only Yeo Sang was missing and when you counted your mates you realized there was indeed another vampire missing, too.

„Do you know where Woo Young is?“

Your mates exchanged mischievous looks and Hong Joong neared your ear to whisper that his brother was giving Yeo Sang last advises and tips. You eyed the clan leader suspiciously trying to understand what he was meaning. He only shrugged with his shoulders and turned you to himself giving you a sweet and longing kiss to which you moaned embarrassingly. You were not used to skinship in front of all the others because it was just awkward.

Anyways, if you thought back to the two nights you already had with Woo Young and San it couldn’t be denied that it was quite thrilling and hot. You could feel your arousal building in your panties and quickly tried to think about something else before your supernatural boyfriends were able to smell it.

As Yun Ho was now the closest to you in this moment he smirked knowingly and his eyes turned into a crimson red. The others didn’t show it if they were smelling it, too. Thankfully Woo Young and Yeo Sang finally emerged down the stairs. Woo Young patted Yeo Sang on the shoulder a last time and you bid your goodbyes driving off to the airport.

During the flight you thought back to what Hong Joong told you and slowly you understood why they were so hyped the whole week. Yeo Sang finally wanted to mate with you. You watched him reading a book in the seat next you and he seemed to notice when your gazed lingered a little bit too long.

„Everything’s alright, Y/N?“ He had such a cute smile you could only beam at. He took your hand into his and kissed you fingers one after one.

„We will arrive in two hours. Lean your head on my shoulder, maybe you can sleep a little bit.“ You nodded and cuddled yourself into him smelling his perfume you loved so much.

After arriving at the airport a chauffeur brought you to an isolated house deep in the mountains. If you went there alone you would shit your pants at night. Luckily you had a boyfriend with supernatural abilities with you. The house smelled fresh built and everything looked really expensive. The bedroom was surrounded by big windows with a great view over the hilly region. There were only trees over trees miles away. A shudder overcame you again.

And again, luckily Yeo Sang was here. If said boy wanted to watch a horrorfilm this weekend you would smack him.

„Y/N? I will drive to the nearby town to buy some food for the evening. Do you have any wishes?“

„You will leave me alone?“

„Yes, I won’t be long. So-“

„But you know the others will throw a tantrum if they find out?“

„I know, that’s why we won’t tell them. Listen, I know you are a grown up girl and were able to look after yourself before we came into your life. The others are just overreacting sometimes.“

„Wow, who would have thought one of you still hadn’t a clouded mind left.“ Yeo Sang chuckled at your remark.

„So, what for dinner, Mrs. Kang?“ He winked at you and to say it left you in shock would be an understatement. The mountain air turned the usually shy vampire into a new person. Or was it because you were finally alone? Or what the heck did Woo Young told him?! No, you liked your Yeo Sang exactly as he was!

„Earth to Y/N.“

„Haha, sorry. My mind drifts away too often.“

„Yeah, I realized you tend to do that...“ Yeo Sang finally went into the room and sat down with you on the bed. He fidgeted with his fingers trying to say something.

„Y/N, I think you know why were here... And I am really nervous about it. You know, it will be my first time and I don’t want to hurt you...“

„Hurt me? It really didn’t hurt all the other times, I can promise you Yeo Sang! Well, I felt a little sting but it vanished as soon as...“ Your face‘s color turned into a tomato red at what you were about to say and Yeo Sang seemed to know too because he was equally blushing. None of you said something after your tried explanation.

„Lasagne!“

„What?“

„You asked what I wanted and I want Lasagne with a lot of cheese!“

„Oh...“ Yeo Sang chuckled at your outburst.

„How much is a lot of cheese?“

„Ehm, you know one pack or two... But not only 80 g like all those descriptions say!“

„Agree. Those people don’t know what makes a good Lasagne!“ Now you both erupted into laughter on the bed. Yeo Sang pecked you and made himself on his way to the town.

You started to unpack your things and just when it came to undergarments you realized there only was sexy lingerie left inside your bag.

San. This perverted ass. That’s the reason he came out of your room after you packed this morning not telling you what he wanted!

Evening came and Yeo Sang and you cooked a great Lasange with a lot of cheese. After watching a movie Yeo Sang and you decided to call it a night as you both were pretty tired because of the trip. You texted your mates good nights and went into a deep and cuddly sleep in the arms of your boy.

The next morning the both of you packed your hiking bags and finished off a small breakfast. You started your trip to a popular hill four hours away. You enjoyed the nature and quiet atmosphere so much. Especially the clear air relived your body. Yeo Sang made a lot of photos and you believed most of them were of you.

There was a feeling the first evening back home would be a powerpoint presentation of your trip and the boys swooning over Yeo Sang‘s photos of you...

But he was a sweetheart in every perspective. Helping you with difficult passages and being ready to hold you if something made the appearance to become dangerous for you.

After reaching the destination you spent about three hours there enjoying the view and get into conversations with other hikers.

As you arrived home you decided to take a shower. Yeo Sang washed himself before you and ordered traditional food for the evening while you were occupied in the bathroom. You knew it would happen tonight. So you shaved yourself, brushed your teeth again, put on some nice lingerie and dolled yourself up trying to go for a soft rosy look. After dressing and covering you in an expensive perfume you got from the boy himself on christmas eve you went downstairs to see him already preparing the table after the food arrived a few seconds ago.

He eyed you and when you flashed him a brilliant smile and sat down on the table after passing him more slowly he sniffed in your scent and instantly his orbs turned red. Well, you just wanted to tease him a bit but regretted your decision seeing him excusing himself to go outside for a minute. Well, you had to learn, too.

After a few minutes he went back with his normal eye color and indicated for you to start eating after you sent him a pout and excusing gaze.

„Ah, I am so full! But I think I will never be able to eat spicy dishes...“

„Mh, you‘re just like Hong Joong. Spicy is for the big boys.“

„Yeo Sang, I am a girl. You cannot diss me like that. But if Joong heard your sneaky comment...“

„Hehe.“

After cleaning up you waited for Yeo Sang on the sofa searching for a good movie. To be honest, you didn’t know how to start things. Usually your other mates started to approach you and things just lead to the mating but now you didn’t know what to do. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen since half an hour and you started to wonder what he was doing. Suddenly Yeo Sang entered the living room and sat down next to you.

„Where were you?“ He wasn’t even looking at you rather nibbing on his lip and avoiding your gaze.

„I want to show you something.“

„Ehm, okay? What do you want to show me?“

„You will see. Come.“

Okay. A little bit creepy? Because he lead you outside and just as you wanted to protest that you weren’t wearing any shoes he picked you up bridal style and walked inside the dark grounds of the forest.

Neither of you said something while the chilly air tickled your arms. Yeo Sang seemed to notice because he rearranged your position in his arms to hold you closer to him. Your arms hanged lightly around his neck and the only thing you saw in the dark were his pitch black orbs shining in the moonlight whereas the vampire could see perfectly because he obviously was a creature of the night.

And he wasn’t the only creature that woke up to the moonlight because the deeper you went into the woods the louder the background noises became. The forest awakened and the wind brushed through the trees.

You were fascinated by your surroundings only realizing you arrived to you destination when you could make out a warm light igniting behind a big rock.

When Yeo Sang passed it you were met with a picture made out of a fairy tail. There was a little bay surrounded by big trees and a meadow that inhabited small flowers. You could make out a small waterfall at the other side of the water and above it you could see the night sky with the full moon shining in all her glory.

On the meadow there were placed candles in a meaningful order and a blanket occupied by a basket with champagne and two glasses.

Yeo Sang finally let you down on the blanket and you spinned around blinking so often to understand if this was real or a dream.

„You-you did this?“

You eyed him tears threatening to fall when he took your hands into his warm ones. You couldn‘t remember someone doing something like this for you before. Of course your other mates could be romantic, too. But if you thought about it they technically didn’t really had a chance to do something equally. All the time you were fighting your destiny you robbed them the opportunities.

„Yes. Do you like it?“

„L-like it?! I love it! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen...“

Yeo Sang smiled and looked at your lips with loving eyes. Suddenly everything you saw and heard in the forest vanished away. The only thing you recognized now was your mate in front of you. It felt like getting lost into his eyes and a strange magic pulled you towards him and his arms. He kissed you slowly licking your lips in slow and careful motions. You opened your mouth for him and he emerged into your cavern deepening the longing kiss. You both moaned into the other and after a few minutes you started to struggle with the breathing he let go of you.

Yeo Sang guided you down to sit on the blanket and opened the champagne. He poured the two glasses and you clinked them.

„Do you wanna‘ swim? The waters really clear I checked it.“

„But I don’t have something to wear...“

„We-we can swim naked if you want...“ Oh poor boy questioned himself how he was able to suggest that.

You looked at the water and stood up. If there was a time to be brave it was now. You quickly undressed and without looking behind you entered the water leaving Yeo Sang in shock. However he never saw you naked before he loved the sight of your back already. He followed your actions and went behind you in the water to kiss your neck.

„Mhh“

„Y/N, I love you.“ Your heart jumped at his confession. You turned around and put your arms around his neck again.

„I love you, too...“

The both of you embraced each other and floated in the water for half an hour sometimes kissing and shying away when someone accidentally touched a private part of the significant other.

„Oh, you‘re getting really cold! I think we should get out of the water.“ Yeo Sang surprised you when he took a hold of your legs and wrapped them about his torso only now recognizing his red orbs he had since the first kiss you shared.

He carefully emerged out of the bay you wrapped around him and when you entered back into the gravity filled room outside the water you felt his erection peek at your tummy. He definitely had to feel it too but kept a poker face until handling you down onto the blanket. He took a seat beside you and watched the water falling down the small hill in front of him.

You slightly hid behind your arms and pushed your knees up to your body. You didn’t know if you shivered because of the cold night or Yeo Sang‘s naked form beside you. It took a lot in you to not peek at him from the side.

After a few minutes the vampire turned into your direction and took your face into his hands to guide you into another intoxicating make out session. Your body grew hotter by each second your tongues danced in your mouthes. You couldn’t hold back anymore and decided to make the next move and sat down onto him. The boy flinched hard at your body connection but continued to ravish your lips.

You gingerly pushend him down by his chest with your index finger until he layed flat on the ground and stopped the kiss. You leaned back and took in his body that was still a little bit wet from the water. His hair was pushed back and he breathed heavily under you analyzing every move you made and followed your eyes direction.

„You‘re really beautiful. All of you are...“

„And so are you.“

„I am just a human.“

„You are our mate. Someday you will understand how beautiful and precious you are to us.“

Yeo Sang tried to change your positions but you stopped him with a shake of your head.

„Please. I want to make you feel good.“

„Y-you’re sure?“ He knew you never pleasured his brothers like you wanted to do with him now. His heart merely bursted at the thought of being the first one.

You grinned at him and slowly positioned yourself in front of his length. Yeo Sang followed your body with his eyes but stopped when he felt his legs shake under you. He closed his eyes and layed as still es he could.

You observed his erection and he was beautiful in length and thickness. Your mouth literally watered at the sight and you took him into your small hands which already set off a quiet whimper from the vampire under you. It was quite a different feeling being in charge of the pleasure of your mate but you liked the feeling. It made funny things to your stomach.

You started with a kitten lick on his length and Yeo Sang already almost lost it. His brows furrowed and if you wouldn’t be sure he was enjoying this you could’ve thought he was in pain. You felt his legs occasionally tense under your touch and you started to take him into your mouth blowing him in slow movements.

His moanings were like music to your ears and despite being cautious most of the time he wasn’t ashamed to let loose of his sounds in this situation. You weren’t able to get really far. Yeo Sang stopped you after a few more minutes because of being super sensitive to the new sensation he was experiencing.

You both sat down in front of eachother and tried to steady your breaths. Yeo Sang took a loose strand of your wet hair and pushed it behind your ear while tilting his head.

„I want to feel you.“ As soon as the words left his mouth his eyes became a brighter red than before. You knew the color, though. It was the one everyone gave you when they were ready to sleep with you.

You nodded at him and layed down so he could crawl over you. Suddenly his animalistic instincts took over him and he attacked your neck to mark his way from you collarbones down the path to your breasts. He took you by surprise with his sudden change in demeanor.

You grabbed a fistful of his locks tucking on them when he started to suck on one of your nipples while his other hand caressed your hip. Your moans became louder when he started to grind into you and his will to mark you growing endlessly. He moved back to the top of you and looked into your eyes.

„I-I want you. Can I?“

„Of course.“ You managed to say through clawing at his back still in the afterbliss of his attack on your body.

He positioned his member in front of your entrance and slowly entered your walls with hisses and curses. When he managed to reach the end of your hole you couldn’t stop to clench around him sending shots of pleasure through both your systems.

„F-fuck... S-so tight... And you’re so warm...“

„Please move Sangie... nghaa.“

And he did. He felt losing control over his body by the immense ecstasy you were igniting in him. You felt him starting to roll his hips into you and you were left a crying a mess by each thrust he pushed into you.

„Yes! Yeo Sang, please!“

Your mewls encouraged him to move faster hitting your pelvis in rhythmic repeats. He started kissing you again and your whole body was on fire now. You felt your bond tightening by each second and both of you forgot everything around you only living off the other being in this moment.

Like a transparent silk blanket the bond surrounded your forms and secured you from the world outside.

„I-I think I can’t last any longer... Shit!“

„It’s ok, baby. I am ready! D-do i-it!“

He cursed out loud and the next moment you felt the stinging pain in your neck which vanished in mere seconds followed by an overwhelming rush of pleasure that shook throughout your body until your toes curled.

„Oh my goooood!“

One of the best and longest orgasms ever rushed through your system and you felt your release mixing itself with Yeo Sang’s cum that filled in your walls. He pumped himself all through your orgasms and you heart dwelled with love at the feeling.

Yeo Sang rode out his orgasm with a few last stuttery thrusts and stayed inside of you. He slowly pulled out his emerged fangs and collapsed on your body. You were shaking and crying. You caringly stroked his head while trying to calm down yourself. Both of you were sweating like running a marathon before and your bodies sticked to eachother still heating.

After some time Yeo Sang carefully pulled out of you which caused you to hiss slightly. The boy immediately looked at you worried of the possibility he could have hurt you.

„It’s ok. I am just a little bit sore.“

He nodded at you and layed down spooning you from behind. You enjoyed eachother‘s skinship while Yeo Sang drew patterns over your tummy.

„If I knew mating would feel like this, I would’ve been the first one.“

„The mountain air really has its effect on you hasn’t it?

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↺ back to navi

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#ateez smut #ateez vampire #ateez fanfiction #yeosang smut #ateez fluff #teeztheflag #erstes mal #first time

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literatehiss · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall

Read on AO3 here Anyone who knew him could tell you that Simon Fairchild was not the sort of man you would want looking after children. He is still pretty sure he could do better than the Lukas' though. Simon meets and hangs out with a confused 8 year-old Peter.

Little Peter was lonely.

This wasn’t unusual. His parents paid no attention to him, his siblings were all too old or too young to play with him and the few members of the staff he became fond of were swiftly replaced.

It was a brisk spring morning, and Peter’s latest nanny had vanished the night before. No one had replaced her yet which meant Peter was free to spend his day however he liked until someone eventually thought about him.

He didn’t hold much hope of that happening.

He had turned eight only a few months prior, a dull occasion filled with expensive presents that he opened by himself in his room, alone, like usual. One of the gardeners that he had liked to talk to had snuck him a roughly made cloth cat that Peter had hidden under his bed like everything he didn’t want his parents to take from him.

The gardener didn’t last until the end of the day. He didn’t even make it off the grounds of the estate.

He pulled the cat out from under his bed every night, playing with its soft ears and mismatched eyes, hugging it close to his chest as he fell asleep.

He found it burning in the dining room three nights ago.

The only surprise he could muster was that it had lasted as long as it had. It wasn’t until he was safe in his room that Peter released the tight ball of grief, muffling his tears into a pillow. His nanny had caught him crying and had taken him to his parents, concerned. He had tried to pull away from her grip around his shoulders but she wouldn’t relent. Peter had hastily dried his tears on the way to his parents’ room, knowing that he would be punished for such a show of sentimentality.

He stood there under his mother’s glare as his nanny suggested that Peter might need friends, connections, that something might be wrong with the little boy.

She had been swiftly dismissed and Peter had spent the rest of the day in the dusty old attic amongst all the other things the Lukas family didn’t want.

The attic was nothing more than a swiftly fading repressed memory now as he poked the tip of his boot into a muddy puddle, the frozen surface cracking and crunching under the pressure. Peter walked on, past the gardens and the cemetery, past the trees that his younger siblings had carved their names into, desperate to be remembered.The rough tread of his boots skidded in the mud as he slid on the slight hill that led down to the lake. It took him a while, but eventually he clambered up a tree that sat so close to the water’s edge that he could see its roots running under the murky water.

It was peaceful up here, quiet and still as he looked out over the rippling surface of the lake. His eyes closed, embracing the solitude.

It was at this moment he felt the thick branch he was sitting on, shift slightly with the weight of another creature. He jerked away in alarm, closed eyes slamming open as he turned to look at the intruder of his peace.

The man who had seemed to drop in from nowhere, was old. Much older than uncle Nathaniel and he was the oldest person Peter knew. He didn’t seem worried about his light blue suit getting dirty as he settled down onto the tree branch.

“Now, I don’t believe we have met young man. You’ve definitely got the look of a Lukas though, so I’ll presume you arn’t a particularly unwise intruder.” The man laughed. Peter looked at him. The man looked back. Peter had never had to introduce himself to anyone before.

“Alright then, the good old Lukas silent treatment I see,” he let go of the branch, swaying slightly and Peter panicked that the man was going to fall off. He reached over, grabbing Peter’s hand from its firm hold on the branch he was sat on, giving him a firm handshake, “The name is Simon Fairchild. Now, I know you lot are not exactly fond of social interaction, but it is normally polite to give your own name at this point.”

He gave a quiet mumble of “Peter” which caused the man, Simon, to finally stop shaking his hand. Peter ripped his hand away to grip the branch again.

“Peter is it? Lovely, just lovely. You like the water Peter?” he said, nodding at the now still water of the lake.

“Mhm,” he just hummed a vague affirmative which unfortunately didn’t seem to dissuade the man from talking.

“Have you ever seen the ocean Peter?” Simon was searching his pockets for something as he talked, not holding onto the branch at all.

Peter shook his head, but realising that the man was no longer looking at him he just let out a quiet “no”, watching the man pull out a pocketwatch to check the time. Peter then proceeded to have a minor heart-attack as the man jumped off the branch. Visions of broken bones being blamed on him flashed before his eyes.

Laughter.

“Come on down Peter, I think its about time you headed home and I have the pleasure of a meeting with Nathaniel.” peter looked down to see Simon looking perfectly unharmed.

By the time he had scrambled down the tree, Simon had pulled an umbrella from somewhere and had put it up just in time for the first few splatters of rain to hit it.

Peter hadn’t realised how far the lake was from the house until he was forced to walk home with someone else rather than walking alone. Peter flushed a little as his tummy growled with hunger.

“You must have been out here all day lad. Now it has been quite some time since I was your age, but shouldn’t you have someone watching you?”

Peter shrugged.

“No-one cares as long as I’m home before dark.” he could hear air whistle through the man’s teeth, his jaw clenched.

“Well they should. You could have gotten hurt.” Simon looked down at Peter with a sad look in his eyes that looked wrong on a face so clearly used to excitement and joy. Peter had no response to that. He could have gotten hurt, and he would have had to drag himself back to the house just to be ignored by his parents and coldly patched up by whatever member of the staff was around at the time.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Simon seemed to be able to sense his discomfort and switched topic, chattering about the sea and the sky and art and space and many other things Peter didn’t really understand. Simon’s strides were much longer than his own but the elderly man slowed for him, always making sure his umbrella covered Peter from the rain.

It was only once they got in view of the old house that Simon drew away slightly, finishing his lecture on why landscape art was clearly superior to portraits.

Peter wasn’t sure if he didn’t agree or he simply didn’t care.

Either way, Simon drew away and when Peter looked up at him curiously he gave the young boy a quick grin.

“Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble lad.”

The walk up to the house was spent in silence and as soon as Simon opened the door a maid appeared to hurry Peter away from Nathaniel’s guest.

Peter got one more glance of Simon before he was ushered towards his room. The man just stood there in the entrance hall, staring at him, brow furrowed as if in deep thought before he strode into Uncle Nathaniel's office.

Simon had known the Lukas family for as long as they had worshipped the Forsaken, all the way back to Mordechai. He had known, in theory, that their children couldn’t be happy to create such cold and lonely adults, but Peter had broken the shrivelled remains of his heart.

He might be a monster but he still had standards. Children didn’t need to be terrorised, they were already scared of almost everything, all of the time. He didn’t see the point. Wait a few years and you got a much richer, more complex fear.

This was an excuse really.

Peter reminded him of Mordechai before the man had been lost to the Forsaken completely. Curious and proud. Introvert ed for sure, but friendly enough to those he was close to. The young boy might not have a future in academia but he was a bright lad.

If the Lukas’ got their way, they would crush what little personality the boy had by the time he reached adulthood. Simon had met a few of the younger members of the Lukas’ through the years, and at this point he could tell which of the children the family would just discard and which would have their isolation nurtured until most of the joy and life in them was sucked dry. Peter was definitely part of the latter group. If the boy hadn’t of been, Simon might have been tempted to snap the kid up for the Fairchilds. It would have ruffled some feathers but no one would have cared too much. But he could tell the family had plans for Peter, and so he could do nothing for the poor lad.

Simon had never been great with time, it was all meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but he was pretty sure the lad hadn’t grown much by the next time he saw him. So it couldn’t have been too long.

H e had just left yet another boring meeting with Nathaniel when he literally stumbled into Peter, the young boy catching himself on the wall before could fall over. The young Lukas heir’s face was passive but his eyes were red and his face was wet. Simon tugged him along with him as he walked.

“What’s wrong Peter?” The boy’s voice was dull and emotionless as he spoke.

“My brother is gone.”

“Gone?” Simon felt his heart drop.

“Don’t know where. Mother says they were sent away. Diane says Mother and Father had them hurt.” Simon was vaguely aware of Diane being one of Peter’s two older sisters. He hoped she was just messing with the young boy, and that they had just sent the child away. He wasn’t sure he could face the idea of the Lukas’ murdering their young children. He didn’t know what to do. Any expectation of Peter opening up emotionally was laughable. They walked further down the hall before Simon stopped them suddenly. Eh might not be able or willing to do anything to fix the problems with the Lukas Family, but he could certainly make this one little boy a bit happier. He searched through his pockets for a scrap of paper and wrote down a location which he stuck to the door of Peter’s room as they passed it.

“Do you remember our talk last time about whether you had seen the ocean or not? Would you like to?” Peter looked up curiously but nodded.

Simon was aware this wasn’t wise.

But screw it, you only live once (unless you are Jonah of course).

Simon laughed at the sensation of free-fall that he loved so much, only just remembering to steady Peter when they eventually landed back on solid ground. Peter let out a little panicked squeak.

“Where are we?”

“Dover, so we haven’t gone too far, don’t worry.”

Simon took a few steps and sat down on the stark white cliffs, gesturing Peter over to sit next to him.

T hey didn’t talk about anything important. Simon asked about Peter’s schooling while Peter asked about Simon’s shipping company. They sat there for hours until the sun began to set and a black car rumbled up behind them. Simon sniffed in irritation.

“Took them long enough. Well Peter this was a delight as usual. I’ll see you soon lad.”

The last thing Peter saw of Simon before he stepped into the chauffeured car, was Simon stepping straight off the cliff edge and vanishing into the cold sea air.

#Simon Fairchild #Peter Lukas #cw: child neglect #NaNo 2020

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deansmyapplepie · 4 years

Text

Only You - Chapter 10

Title: Getting Answers

Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.

Only You Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: witches, paranoia, angst, protective!reader, protective!Dean,

Word Count: 3,284

(Gif not mine)

"I don't know why you can't just take your stupid brother out to breakfast instead of me. I should be staying with my mom," you grumbled, watching your house grow smaller in the passenger-side mirror. "Can we please go back?" Sam kept his gaze on the road as he drove.

"Nope. Dean told me he thought it would be a good idea to get you out of the house for a few hours, and I agree with him. You literally haven't left since we've gotten there."

"What? That's ridiculous, yes I have!" Sam shot you a side glance, his expression clearly saying he knew you were full of shit. "I have!" you insisted.

"When?"

"I... took the trash out to the end of the driveway the other night." Sam snorted and gave a shake of his head, a breeze from the open window rustling his hair.

"That doesn't count, and you know it."

"Yes, it does!" you argued.

In reality, it didn't. It had been a few days since you arrived at your mother's house, but you still hadn't made any progress. As much as you hated to admit it, Dean was right. You had been starting to go a little stir crazy, and a trip to get some breakfast was exactly what you needed. Still, even as fantastic as the warm breeze felt on your skin, you were anxious to get back to the house already. How could you not be? You knew your mother would be perfectly safe with Dean while you and Sam were gone. In fact, Dean could probably do a better job of protecting your mom than you could. You trusted him to take care of her, but you knew that you wouldn't be able to relax again until you saw with your own eyes that she was completely unharmed.

"Y/N?" Sam saying your name had you jerking to attention. "You okay over there?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought is all." Sam reached over to rub your arm sympathetically.

"Dean's got it covered. Why don't you just relax for an hour, okay? You've got nothing to worry about." With much effort, you took a deep breath, allowing your shoulders to sag. You were tired. The past few days had been draining in more ways that one. Actually, scratch that. Your entire life had become a big ball of exhaustion ever since that damn witch made her appearance. And the worst part? No matter how much you or the boys looked into it, you couldn't find anything on her. You didn't even know her name. "What are you going to order?" As far as subtle attempts to get your mind off of something went, this wasn't the best, but you still appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"I don't know, probably french toast or something. Definitely a side of bacon with whatever I get, though." Sam laughed.

"I think you and Den are more alike than you want to admit sometimes." A hot blush rose up to your cheeks, and you turned away from him so he wouldn't see.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The younger Winchester gave a knowing smile next to you.

"Whatever you say, Y/N."

Back at the house, Dean let out a nervous breath through puffed cheeks as he went back inside. He had been waiting for a moment alone with Y/N's mother, but now that he had it, he was more nervous than he was expecting.

"Me?" Sam had looked surprised when Dean had asked him to get Y/N out of the house for a while. "Why can't you take her?"

"Because she's your friend, too. Besides, you guys probably haven't had the chance to catch up with everything being so crazy." The younger Winchester frowned.

"I mean, I guess, but we did go for a run back at the motel, and-" Dean held up his hand, closing his eyes in annoyance.

"Just get out of here, will you?" Eventually, Sam relented and stuck his hand out for the Impala's keys. The two of them had left almost twenty minutes ago now, and he had been sitting on the front porch trying to brace himself for the conversation he was about to have. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat in a chair across from Y/N's mom, who was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper.

"So," he began cautiously, "anything interesting in the paper?" She gave him the side-eye, and he gulped. Over the years, Dean had learned to be prepared for anything, and as a result, he had become very good at usually knowing what to do. Unfortunately for him, this was not one of those times. Dean sighed. He couldn't keep tiptoeing around the issue. "I know you don't like me, and I understand why," Dean stated. "If I were you, I don't think I would like me either."

"Well, I'm glad we're in agreement there," she said sharply as she continued to read the paper. Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw, ignoring her comment.

"Look," he tried again, "I made a mistake. It was six years ago. I was young and stupid and a coward. I know I hurt your daughter, and I'll regret that for the rest of my life. I thought I was doing what was best for her." Y/N's mother shook her head. "But I love her," Dean admitted. Mercifully, she set the paper aside and gave Dean her full attention. "And I'm trying hard to make it right."

"I have never seen her love anyone that deeply before, and when you left, she was heartbroken. Why in God's name was that best for her?" Dean licked his lips, taking a deep breath. He had never told this story before.

"A demon was after us," he finally began to explain, "my brother and me, I mean. A powerful one. Dangerous, too. He was the kind of son-of-a-" Y/N's mother shot Dean a warning look, and the profanity died on his tongue. He cleared his throat. "Well, he was the type of demon you don't want to mess around with. He didn't want my brother and me dead - well, he did, but he knew Sam and I weren't going down without a fight. So, he started coming after people we knew." The older woman across from him steepled her fingers under her chin, understanding beginning to make its way across her face as she nodded thoughtfully. "For a few days before I left, Sam and I kept getting calls that hunters we knew were getting hurt. Hurt bad. The closer the demon got, the worse things were, and I panicked. I may not have handled it the best way, but I never took your daughter's safety lightly. Not once." Dean heaved a sigh mixed with relief and sorrow. It felt good to finally get that off his chest. Y/N's mom sat in silence for a long moment after he was finished.

"What happened to the demon?" she questioned.

"We got him," Dean answered. "When Sam and I left town, the sucker ran for the hills. We finally tracked him down in Sedona, Arizona, after a couple weeks."

"You didn't come back after you took care of it," Y/N's mother pointed out. Dean's shoulders slumped.

"I wanted to. God, I wanted to. When I was here, every day I woke up with her next to me, I was scared for her life. I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect her. When I left, that's what I was doing."

"But you didn't say goodbye. Why?" The Winchester let out a chuckle.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, you know as well as I do that Y/N's the most stubborn person alive." Her mom nodded her agreement with a small smile. "If I told her I was leaving, she just would have convinced me to stay." A semi-stunned silence filled the room.

"I never knew that," Y/N's mother confessed. "Any of that." Dean gave her a half-hearted smile.

"How could you? You only knew what Y/N told you." Uncrossing her legs, Y/N's mom got up from the couch, and Dean followed suit, assuming the conversation was over. When she came over to him, though, she pulled him into a hug. Surprised, Dean froze for a moment before reciprocating.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For protecting her. I misjudged you, Dean. And I think I may have been too hard on you."

"No," Dean disagreed, "I don't think you were."

"Okay, I may be a little grateful you convinced me to get breakfast with you," you admitted, leaning your head against the car's interior contently. "French toast and bacon fix everything. Sort of." Sam laughed.

"I'm glad I could help. But I still think you should have tried to take the morning off." You shook your head in response.

"Getting a game plan together was a morning off. Sure as hell put my nerves at ease, at least." Leaving the house had really done wonders for your mental state. When you left an hour ago, you had been drained, upset, and had no idea what to do. You knew it had been Sam's goal to get your mind off of the witch, but you had eventually strong-armed him into talking strategy with you. Now, you had a game plan. Look for a history of witchy activity, and find a name. It wasn't much, but it was something.

You bounced your knee to the music subconsciously as the two of you rolled into your childhood neighborhood.

"So, where should we start?" you asked. "Newspapers?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "We need dates and events before we can narrow down police records to get names." He pulled the car into your driveway, and you unbuckled.

"All right, well, let's get cracking. I know a few local papers we could-" The last few words of your sentence died on your lips as something caught your eye. In your bedroom window, a dark shadow moved between the curtains, and you saw a flash of unmistakable dark hair. Then, the pieces of white fabric obscuring your view into the house parted, and you fully saw her. You felt your heart stop as time seemed to slow. And then... she smiled at you.

The car door was open before you even had time to think about it. "Mom! Mom, get out of the house!" Your legs carried you up the front walkway at top speed, running purely on adrenaline. The front door slammed into the wall with such force when you opened it, it was a miracle the glass in the window had stayed intact.

"Y/N?" You took the stairs two at a time up to your room. You had no idea how she had gotten in, and frankly, you didn't care. All that mattered was getting her out. But when you burst into your bedroom, the window was wide open, the curtains moved peacefully in the gentle breeze, and the witch was nowhere to be seen. Footsteps pounded down the hallway behind you, and you felt someone at your shoulder.

"She..." The serene silence was incredibly out of place around you. It didn't make any sense. You stepped forward and yanked the curtains aside. "She was right fucking here!” Sam and Dean watched you intently from the doorway as you whirled around. Your mom pushed past them, clasping your hands as she searched your eyes.

"Honey, I don't understand, Dean and I were here the whole time you were gone. No one was in here." You shook your head, frantic.

"No, she was here. I know she was. That window was not open when I left."

"She's right," Sam put in. "I did a perimeter check before we headed out this morning."

"I opened it after you left," your mother explained. "It felt stuffy in here, so I wanted to get in some fresh air." She went over to the window and promptly shut it, sliding the lock over as if that would somehow solve your problems.

"There's no way she could've gotten in, sweetheart," Dean said. "We put up all the wardings, remember?"

"Wardings?" your mom echoed. Reaching up to massage your temples, you tried to alleviate the pressure building around the crown of your head as Dean rubbed your back soothingly. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"We stick to our game plan," Sam answered. "We figure out who this woman is and where we can find her."

Hours later, you, Sam, and Dean were scattered around the living room, each of you deep into old news articles and police records on your laptops. Unexplainable earthquake takes down local business. Woman claims to hear ‘demonic voices’ from neighboring home. Every headline you came across that seemed promising turned out to be either a dead-end or a false alarm. Your mom came around with a pot of coffee as late evening sunlight streamed through the windows.

"Any luck?" she questioned.

"No," Dean replied through a sigh. "Squat. She's damn good at covering her tracks. If she's got any," he added as an afterthought. When Sam had helped you come up with an idea of what to do next this morning, for some reason, you had assumed it would be smooth sailing from there. How wrong that assumption was. Your mom topped off your mug, and you chewed on your lower lip thoughtfully.

"Well, I'm sure you kids will figure it out." Her levelheadedness surprised you, especially since there was no doubt in your mind she knew that the witch was after her specifically.

"How are you so calm about this?" you asked incredulously. Your mom handed the pot of coffee off to Sam and wrapped her arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

"I'm your mom," she replied. "Being calm through the chaos is in my job description." You reached up and patted her hand as you continued to sift through articles and headlines. At this point, the letters were swimming before your eyes, morphing into an unintelligible ball of random vowels and consonants. Somewhere off to your left, you heard Dean groan.

"All right," he grunted, popping his back as he stood. "I'm tappin' out. I need a fifteen-minute break and a brewski. Pronto. No offense to your coffee, Mrs. Y/L/N." Your mom chuckled a bit, taking the coffee back from the tallest Winchester.

"None taken. I have some beer in the fridge, or some whiskey in the cupboard if you want something a little stronger." A broad grin lit up Dean's face, and he pointed at your mother as he looked at you.

"Oh, now we're talking." As Dean followed your mom into the kitchen, you felt your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Huh," you mused. For the first time in hours, Sam looked up from his computer.

"You find something?" You shook your head.

"No. I just don't know when your brother and my mom started actually getting along." Sam shrugged and returned his attention to his research.

"Maybe we should extend the search a little further," he proposed after a few moments of silence. Your head tilted to the side.

"How so?" He began to type vigorously, eyes scanning the screen with newfound fervor.

"Well, I just thought of something. Sometimes witches use anti-aging rituals to keep young and extend their life." You felt your heart drop into your stomach. You had no idea witches could even do that. Nothing was ever easy, was it? "So," Sam continued, "you said she looked about your mom's age, right?" You nodded a reply. "She may be even older than we thought."

"And just not look it," you finished.

"Exactly."

"Jesus," you grumbled under your breath. Suddenly, everything seemed a thousand times harder all over again, and you couldn't sit still. "Sam, I'm sorry, I need a minute to wrap my head around all this. Do you mind if I..." you raised your eyebrows and let your open-ended question hang in the air, waiting for his answer.

"Yeah, Y/N, go ahead." Mercifully, you finally set your laptop aside and made your way into the kitchen, where your mom was leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. She looked just as tired as you felt, but when she noticed you standing there, she immediately straightened, wiping the exhaustion from her face almost entirely.

"You coming to get some whiskey too?"

"No," you answered. "Just taking a break before my brain explodes. Where's Dean?" She let out a soft laugh.

"He's out back nursing that drink like his life depends on it." You joined in on her laughter.

"Yeah, that's Dean for you. I'm gonna go keep him company for a bit, and then I think we're getting back to it." The last thing you wanted to do right now was sit down again, and research for God knows how much longer, but the harder you worked at this, the quicker it would all be over with. At least, that's what you were hoping for.

When you stepped out onto the back porch, you didn't see Dean at first, but then you found him, leaning against your tree in the far back part of the yard.

"Stealing my spot, huh?" you called out as you walked over to him. He smiled gently when he saw you.

"Didn't realize it was taken," he responded. Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you leaned against the broad trunk next to him.

"I don't mind sharing." Dean smiled coyly.

"That so?" Feigning indifference, you shrugged. "I don't blame you for wanting to be around me," he teased. "I am devastatingly handsome. I know you like having me around, YN, you don't have to pretend." Based on the way he was peering at you from the corner of his eye, you could tell his joking manner held some sincerity. He was fishing - waiting for you to reiterate that you didn't want him there, just as you had when he first arrived. Or maybe... oh, boy. You fixed Dean with a shy gaze.

"Who said anything about pretending?" With those five words, his entire demeanor changed. Tipping back the last of his whiskey, he set the glass on the ground at his feet. Dean looked into your eyes intently as you stood there, almost too nervous to speak. Almost. "Dean," you finally whispered, "kiss me." The corner of his mouth quirked up a bit, and his green eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Was kinda hoping you'd say that." This time, there was no hesitation between the two of you; no stipulations from the fear of reigniting an old spark. You weren't sure when it had happened, but ever since he had returned, the supposedly unlit spark had turned into a whole damn wildfire.

Dean's hand on the small of your back pressed you closer as you leaned into him. Your arms wound around his neck, and you tangled a hand in his short hair. Butterflies, fireworks, the whole nine. Kissing him had felt like this from day one, and for the first time in a long time, the world went away, and it was just you and Dean Winchester. That is until Sam cleared his throat to get your attention. The two of you broke apart, and a small smile immediately crept back onto your lips at the thought of what you had just done. Dean wrapped an arm around your waist again, tugging you gently to his side. When you glanced up at him, you realized that he was also fighting a grin.

"What's up, Sammy?" he asked.

"Sorry to, uh, interrupt you guys," Sam apologized, "but you're gonna want to see this."

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 11 - Coming Clean

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 58:You Have To Go Through The Worst To Get To The Best

Intro The Time Heist worked, but at a cost. Natasha gave her life for the Soul Stone. Following a promise to make her sacrifice worth something, the Avengers continued their plan and succeeded in reversing the Snap. But along with everyone else, the biggest threat the Avengers have ever faced re-appeared.

Thanos.

Now Steve and Katie, along with the rest of their team are locked in a fearsome battle, between light and dark, life and death. Simply put, it’s a battle which they cannot afford to lose because they’re in the Endgame now…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Sorry for your loss.

4 words that Katie was already sick of hearing. Sorry. I mean...what did people have to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was their fault. Still, she acknowledged the sympathies that came her way, completely automatically, almost emotionlessly. She barely registered the fact she had spoken to Fury and Hill, two people who had been dead 5 years ago, she didn’t have the energy to wish she could knock Ross’ head off his shoulders and had no idea how long she had walked what was left of the compound...maybe an hour or so? Who cared anyway? She simply did what people asked her to do to help out, whilst Steve hurried around organising everyone and barking orders.

Nevertheless, when the crowds of Emergency Services, Armed Forces and Support Staff that had flooded the Compound left, she suddenly felt alone and found herself in their compound apartment, sat on the bed, staring at the wall. Just staring. It was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Her brain was screaming all sorts at her, but she couldn’t really understand any of it. She simply felt broken.

“Katie…”

She looked up to see Steve in the doorway.

“Hey.” she gave him a soft smile. “Pepper just spoke to Happy…the kids are fine. All 3 fast asleep. He’s going to wake them in a few hours and bring them back.” “No.” Katie shook her head “I want him to bring them now.” “Honey its almost 4 am.” he said, and she frowned. Ok, so she’d been walking around a little longer than she thought, then. “Let them sleep. We can go, get cleaned up and…” “Plan how we tell them their Uncle is dead.” she said softly, gazing back down at her hands.

Steve took a shaky breath. He felt beyond guilty. Guilty that he got to go home to his kids because of the fact that Tony wouldn’t. Steeling himself, he made his way to the bed, sat down next to his wife and wrapped his arm around her as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“What’s everyone doing?” she asked softly.

“Rhodey is in with Ross and President Ellis…” “Ellis is here?” she frowned.

Steve nodded “Rhodey’s giving him a brief on what’s happened. They’re gonna need to put an announcement out so…”

“Suppose it was probably a shock everyone re-appearing again.” she said quietly. “What about everyone else?”

“Well Lang, Parker and Bruce already left.” he said as his hand gently rubbed up and down her arm. “And there’s a chopper on the way to take Pepper home and a couple more following to take the rest of us to the Tower. The roads are completely jammed, apparently there’s impromptu parties taking place all over. Might be a while before we can get back through to Brooklyn.” The thought of partying seemed alien to Katie, but as she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. People would be greeting lost loved ones, celebrating the fact the world has returned to normal.

For them anyway.

“Clint will want to go home...” Katie nodded “He’ll be desperate to see Laura and the kids.” “We’ve got a jet on the way for him so he can go as soon as possible.”

If ever Katie was grateful for having a husband with Military organisational skills it was now. He’d literally thought of everything. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into him even more, seeking out comfort like a child, as they sat in silence until they were ready to leave.

****

“I guess this is strange for you too, huh?” Steve said as they made their way into the Tower, Bucky and Sam each carrying one of the bags of stuff they’d brought with them from the Compound, Steve the other. “Yeah you could say that.” Sam shrugged “one minute everyone was in Wakanda and then the next minute it was just us, and the jungle had changed and then that Strange dude turns up and tells us it’s been 5 years and we needed to go fight one last time…”

“Has it really been 5 years?” Bucky asked.

Katie nodded

“So now you’re older than me Stevie…” he grinned.

Steve chuckled a Katie gave a small smile. “Shut up.”

They made their way into the elevator and FRIDAY greeted them, somewhat forlornly, as Katie asked for their floor. The elevator fell silent as it scooted upwards, pinging open. Katie stepped out first, followed by Wanda then the men.

“Where do you want-“ Bucky began but he stopped dead, Sam bumping into him.

“What the hell Frosty?” he said, frowning as he followed Bucky’s eye line, his eyes growing wide. Wanda was also gazing, mouth open, and Steve immediately knew what they were looking at- the large framed photo on the wall in the living room.

Even though their home was in Brooklyn this was still very much their apartment. Katie sometimes stayed if she had a big meeting, or on occasions they would crash here when they grabbed a rare night out in Manhattan. And it was for that reason that the photos in the apartment had been updated as their lives had moved on. The wall their friends were gazing at contained two photos. The first was one taken by Katie at the hospital when Jamie was hours old, the same photo also adorned the wall in the lounge at home. It showed Steve asleep in the chair by her hospital bed, hair unkempt and he was unshaven with his baby son clutched to his chest as they both slept. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday, one snapshot moment out of God knows how many, all of which the 3 people stood in front of him had missed. The second showed a younger Emmy with her then 6 month old brother, both grinning at the camera as they sat on the sofa at home.

“You….” Sam gasped as Wanda and Bucky turned to them, mouth hanging open.

Steve nodded “Yeh, err, did no one tell you?” he asked, rubbing his neck.

“No.” Bucky breathed.

“But then it never really cropped up in conversation whilst we were fighting Thanos…” Sam said, a little sarcastically and Wanda thumped his arm.

“How old…” she asked.

“Emily is 16 this year.” Katie said, looking at the photos smiling softly “We adopted her after the snap…long story.”

She looked at Steve who smiled, knowing she was allowing him the task of revealing their boys names to two of the men he was named after.

“And Jamie’s 3.” he said, looking at Bucky.

“Jamie?” Bucky asked thickly.

“Or to give him his full name James.” Steve said, nodding at Bucky who swallowed as he looked back at his best friend. “Anthony-“ then Steve turned to Sam “Samuel.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look, the pair of them floundering for words.

“Cap…” Sam swallowed, his eyes misting over “Wow, I’m so happy for you guys.” “I can’t wait to meet them.” Wanda beamed.

“You might regret saying that.” Steve chuckled “He can be a handful. Stubborn, opinionated, won’t back down- don’t even say it.” he pointed at Bucky who had opened his mouth.

“He’s awesome.” Katie said softly “They both are.”

Her eyes moved round the apartment and fell on a photo of her and Tony taken at her wedding, and suddenly she couldn’t be there anymore. Excusing herself she headed into their bedroom. She shed her boots, cat suit and made her way straight into the en-suite now feeling utterly overwhelmed, and still struggling to make head or tail of her emotions. She should have been celebrating like everyone else in the streets was doing. Their friends and trillions of other people were saved, but she couldn’t because again, just like the other day when they had grieved for Natasha, there was one person who wasn’t coming back. Her brother.

She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand, an attempt to sooth the pain she now felt in every inch of her body. But whilst some of it was bruising from the multiple batterings she had taken, some of it was coming from inside. The pain of losing her brother was physical, and hard. Closing her eyes she lay her head against the tiles, allowing the water to beat down on her, lost in her memories. “I got full marks on my English essay Tone!” her 10 year old self grinned up at him as he leaned against the car, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

“Get you, you little brainbox!” he ruffled her hair “That’s awesome, so awesome in fact I think we need to stop for pizza and a shit load of ice cream on the way home…sound good?” “You’re the best!” she beamed as he took her pink back-pack off her and dropped it into the trunk as she climbed into the passenger seat of his BWM.

“Oh no, you are not going out wearing that!” he said, standing up as she walked into the living room of the house.

16 year old Katie rolled her eyes “Tone its boiling hot outside, what you want me to wear? A pair of jeans and a fucking coat?” “Not that!” he scoffed, looking at the rather short denim skirt “Young lady,I can see what you had for breakfast.”

“Oh bite me Tony.” she shot back, hearing the guffaw that Rhodey gave out from the sofa before she shot out of the front door to greet her boyfriend who had just pulled up the drive.

Then she was 18, cruising along the cliff in Malibu, laughing, her hands on the steering wheel of her convertible bug, Tony in the passenger seat sipping an iced tea, the pair of them singing as loudly as they could to Drops of Jupiter- their song.

“Mr Rock and Roll over there, listen to you!” she laughed as the song finished and it changed to AC/DC Thunder.

“If you ever tell anyone about my love of Train I will kill you.” Tony looked at her over his sunglasses and she snorted, grinning.

“I’m so telling Pepper.”

“Err you know I can still pull my funding.” he glared “You can kiss goodbye to going to Oxford…” And speaking of Oxford, at 21, she was there, accepting her first class honours in English Literature and Mythology. As she smiled for the camera, she could see Tony stood up in the middle of the hall, whistling before he punched the air “That’s my girl!” he yelled “Katie Maria Stark. That’s my girl! No I won’t sit down...what did you just say?...” and he began arguing with the person behind him.

At 26 she was crying, tears of happiness as the ramp on the aircraft carrier opened to reveal her brother. His hair was longer, he looked thinner but he was alive. He was barely at the bottom before she flung herself at him, not caring that his arm was a sling.

“Hey Kiddo.” he said softly as she buried her face into his neck.

“You fucking ass hole!” she sobbed “next time, you ride with Rhodey, you got that?”

“Trust me, there will be no next time.” he chuckled as she pulled back “Afghanistan is a shit hole.”

A year later she was crying again, sobbing even, as Tony sat with his arms around her, gently shushing her as she sat up in her bed “How could he do that to me Tony?” she sniffed, her tears dampening her brother’s t-shirt as he rubbed her back, laying his head against hers. “I thought he loved me…but…” “He isn’t worth your tears kiddo.” he sighed “Grant cunt-face Ward doesn’t deserve them, or you. No one ever will…you got that? No one will ever be good enough for my Kiddo.”

And then she was walking up the aisle towards her future husband, her arm linked tightly around Tony’s. He pressed a kiss to her head.

“Just remember, just because I’m giving you away doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he ever hurts you.” he mumbled and she snorted, turning to look at him. “I love you to the stars and back, Katie, remember that…” Like she could ever forget. Tony hadn’t been everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, at times they’d been completely at odds with one another, siblings estranged for 2 years at one point. But she had never, not once, stopped loving the man who had brought her up as his own. Her brother and father all rolled into one.

She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the shower, the tears still not arriving. She began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She’d cried more when Natasha died. She pulled on a towel robe that was hanging behind the door and began to dry her hair, squeezing the water out of the long strands.

“I remember when you used to do that for me.” She grinned, watching Tony as he sat with Morgan between his legs on the lounger round the pool at her Brooklyn home, rubbing her wet hair ferociously with a pink beach towel, making the 3 year old cackle with laughter. I remember…but Morgan won’t.

And then the cry ripped from her chest, like someone had reached down her throat and pulled it from the very depths of her heart.

***** Steve made sure the guys were settled in the spare apartment, the three of them opting to share, none of them particularly wanting to be alone. Making his way back into theirs, he headed straight to the bedroom and heard Katie turn off the water to the shower. With a groan he stripped off the top half of his uniform, dropping the grubby item to the floor and then reached to pull off the compression shirt.

But before he got chance he heard a noise that chilled his every bone. It was a cry. A primal, raw, broken scream. Quick as flash he crossed the room and pushed open the door to the bathroom and found his wife slumped on her knees on the floor, screaming and crying uncontrollably.

“He’s gone…” she screamed “He’s gone, he’s gone…” He’d known this was coming and it broke his heart that he could do nothing to help, nothing to take away the utter desperation and pain and anger she was feeling. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and she turned to him, fisting her hands around his top as he pulled her close, one arm round her back, the other in her hair.

“Let it out…”his voice was croaky as he rocked her, gently stroking her hair as his cheek pressed against the top of her head. “I got you…I got you…” How long they stayed there for, with Katie screaming and crying over the soft sounds of his soothing, Steve had no idea, but eventually her sobs became sniffles as she regained some form of composure.

“Steve…” she managed to stutter as she pulled back to look at him” He’s gone…he’s gone…” “Oh sweetheart…” his voice cracked, his own heart ached with grief and sympathy and love as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, pulling her onto his lap as he settled on the floor, making no attempts to move her. He buried his face into her hair, his own sobs catching in his throat.

Eventually she stopped crying, and she truly thought at that time her body had run out of tears to shed. She pulled back to look up at Steve, his eyes wet as she took a ragged, deep breath.

“All my life Tony has been there…” she said gently as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, brushing away her stray tears, “Even when we were apart those years I knew that if I needed him, he would be there…but now…he’s gone and I don’t know what to do.”

“You do what you always do.” he said gently “You get up, you dust yourself off and you act like the amazing, strong, beautiful woman you are. My wife, my baby momma.”

She gave a watery splutter of a laugh before she buried her face into his t-shirt again, and simply breathed him in. His warmth and familiar smell, even if he wasn’t as fresh as he could be after the exertion of battle, was a comfort, a balm to her broken soul. Tony was gone, she knew that, but she wasn’t on her own. She’d never be on her own as long as she had Steve.

****

“Don’t be sad Momma…” Jamie said, as Katie’s tears tickled down her cheeks, her son on her lap, Emmy sat on her father’s, despite her age meaning she was normally way past that stage, as she cried into his chest, his arms gently cradling her. “Uncle Nee isn’t on his own.” “What do you mean baby?” she asked, sniffing as he played with a strand of her hair.

He looked at her with his baby blue eyes and shrugged, as if the answer was obvious “Because he’s with Auntie Nat-Nat.”

“Yeah…” Katie said, a soft sob escaping her “You’re right. But I’m still sad, but you don’t need to be worried about that ok?” He nodded “I can kiss it better” he said, and she smiled as he leaned up connecting his lips to hers with a loud smacking noise.

“All better.” she smiled, wiping her eyes.

“When can we go home?” Emmy asked, sitting up slightly.

“Soon, I promise.” Steve said. “I think we’ll stay here for tonight, your mom and I both need a rest.”

Emmy nodded “I expect kicking alien butt for hours takes it out of you.” Steve snorted. “A little.” “You did it though.” She said softly “Everyone came back.” “Yeah, and on that note…” Katie picked up, “We have some people we’d like you to meet. That’s if you’re feeling up to it.” “Is it them? Bucky, Sam and Wanda?” Emmy asked, her wet brown eyes opening wide.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled “If it’s ok with you, we thought we could all have breakfast together…”

“Pancakes?” Jamie asked hopefully and Katie nodded, dropping a kiss to his head.

“Pancakes” she affirmed.

“Now?”

“Do you ever think about anything but this?” Katie chuckled, prodding his tummy. He pondered for a second.

“legos.” he said, nodding “I think about my legos sometime.”

Emmy snorted and Steve let out a laugh “Pancakes and legos eh son?” he reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair “Sounds like a perfect combination.”

A short while later Steve, armed with a selection of his clothes and Katie’s for the 3 adults headed down to fetch them, whilst Katie started to make breakfast. Pepper, as caring and thoughtful as ever had sent Happy back with a selection of food knowing that Manhattan was in utter chaos and going out in public was the last thing Steve or Katie wanted for fear of being mobbed. That, combined with the stash they had in the kitchen meant it was easy for Katie to whip up a batch of batter and throw some bacon in the pan.

She set Emmy to work chopping fruit, and never one to miss out, she stood Jamie on a chair in front of her and gently guided his hand as he held the whisk to stir the batter. Katie was literally grabbing the ladle to drop the first load into the pan, the door to the apartment opened and Steve’s voice carried in to the kitchen.

“Hey guys…” Jamie squealed in excitement and Katie moved so he could get down. He shot out of the kitchen, barrelling into the lounge where he skidded to a halt by his dad and gazed up at the 3 strange adults in front of him.

The first thing that hit Bucky was just how like post-serum Steve the little boy was. Stocky, bright blue eyes and a shock of dark blonde hair. But his nose, his nose was distinctly like his mother’s.

“He looks like you.” he said, nodding to Steve.

Katie stepped into the room with Emmy and smiled.

“Jamie, Emmy….this is Bucky, Sam and Wanda.” Emmy raised her hand shyly “Nice to meet you all.”

Meanwhile, Jamie simply gazed up at Bucky, his attention focussed directly on his metal arm and Bucky suddenly began to worry that it would scare him. That was until Jamie stepped forward with all his usual boldness and pointed.

“Is that metal?” “Jamie…” Steve said, his tone soft. He couldn’t scald his son for being curious, but at the same time he had seen the apprehension in Bucky’s eyes. Apprehension that had now turned to amusement.

“Yeah it is.” He said, crouching down so he was eye level with his namesake. He held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers “Wanna touch it?” Jamie reached out and placed his palm against Bucky’s prosthetic and grinned, looking up.

“Dad…that’s really cool. Can I have one?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head with a grin.

“You think that’s cool you should see my wings.” Sam said, crouching next to Bucky.

“You have wings?” Jamie’s eyes grew wide “I want…”

“No!” Katie said with a snort.

“Fine I’ll just ask Santa.” Jamie shruggged and Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I like this kid!” he grinned, standing up.

“You can have him…” Katie winked, as Bucky stood up straight and grinned “Saves me sending him to Kiddie Prison.” “Morgan told me there’s no such place.” Jamie looked at his mother, and Steve let out a sigh. The threat of Kiddie Prison was their biggest bargaining chip when he was being naughty. Especially as the naughty step wasn’t an option, because the first (and last) time they tried that they caught him climbing up the staircase and sliding down the bannister nearly giving the pair of them a heart attack.

“I told you short stuff, it does.” Emmy said, with a roll of her eyes “I lived there before mom and dad adopted me. And all they give you to eat all day is slugs and slime…” Steve shared a look with Bucky and let out a loud laugh.

“Don’t…” Bucky shook his head with a grin.

“You gave Becca nightmares for days with that story!” Steve laughed as he recalled Bucky telling his sister about a hole in the ground where bad kids went “She wouldn’t go near a manhole for months!”

“I can still feel the blow round the ears my Pa gave me…” Bucky said, reaching up to rub at the back of his head. The chatter continued as they made their way into the kitchen. Steve went to brew the coffee as Sam, Wanda and Bucky took seats round the table with the kids, chatting away. Occasionally he caught the odd snippet as Jamie told Bucky about his toys at home, Sam all about his friend at nursery, whilst Emmy was chatting to Wanda about school and what she wanted to do in the future. But all the time the soldier had one eye on his wife as she stood, silently, cooking enough pancakes to feed a small army. Which, to be fair, was probably what they would need with 2 super soldiers and a hungry 3 year old to feed. He slipped his arms around her waist.

“You ok?” he asked, before he sighed “Sorry, stupid question.”

She chuckled and shook her head “No it’s not stupid. And no, I’m not. Not really. But I will be, in time. I hope.”

Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek and winced as a loud “GET A ROOM!” sounded across the kitchen and he turned to glare at his son, Bucky and Sam exchanging gleeful looks with one another. Steve raised his hand and pointed at Emmy accusingly. “That was not me!” she said, indignantly “It was Bucky that told him to say it…” “If this is the impression you have on my kids after all of 15 minutes James Buchanan Barnes then I’m going to have to seriously consider letting you near them again.” Katie said as she dropped the plate of pancakes into the middle of the table.

“Why did you just call him James?” Jamie asked, frowning

“Because my name is James too.” Bucky answered for Katie.

“No, it’s Bucky.” Jamie frowned.

“He only gets called James when he’s been bad, bit like you pal.” Steve chuckled, placing Jamie’s plate of food in front of him “Now eat that, and then you can show Buck your lego.”

“My legos are here?” Jamie said, grinning.

“Yeah they’re in your bag.” he dropped a kiss to his son’s head.

“What the hell is a Lego?” Bucky asked. The room feel silent as all eyes turned to the man who glanced around, suddenly feeling very self conscious. “What?” ****

“I know there is much speculation surrounding the events of the last 24 hours, and it is for that reason I find myself addressing you all once more, with regards to the Decimation…only this time I am happy to greet you all with much better news. Thanks to the brave actions of the Avengers and countless others who fought in a ferocious battle Upstate, the Vanished have been returned to us in the same state in which they left. But it isn’t without cost. Unfortunately, I do bring some sad news amongst the happy, as I can confirm the rumours are true. Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff both lost their lives in the mission to bring everyone back. My sincere condolences and thoughts are with the rest of the Avengers, in particular the Rogers and Stark families, and I’m sure I speak for the entire world when I say we will be forever indebted to the two fallen heroes for their brave sacrifices which ensured that friends and families across the globe could be reunited. To allow you all some time with those who have been returned to you, I’m declaring today and tomorrow a national holiday. So be with your loved ones. And now I speak to those who have been returned to us. For the past 5 years the world has become a very different place to the one you knew. Please be patient with us whilst we try to make sense of the fact you have all been returned to us and don’t be too hard on us if we seem a little, well, astounded. Thank you all, God Bless America, and God Bless the Avengers.”

President Ellis’ address rang out across the nation at 3pm that afternoon. On every TV and Radio channel there was. Rhodey had popped by to give them a heads up, and also inform Katie that they were talking about honouring both Tony and Natasha posthumously. Katie had merely shrugged, not entirely sure what Tony would have said about any of that, until Rhodey made her laugh about the last time he had received an honour, getting stabbed with the pin by the Senator awarding it to him. Senator Stern. Who had turned out to be Hydra.

That night fireworks exploded across the skies of Manhattan. The current occupants of the tower sat on the roof watching the symphony of colours and explosions as it light up the sky-line, Jamie opting to sit on Bucky’s knee instead of his father’s, because of course Bucky was now his favourite person on the planet. But Steve didn’t mind, well, not too much anyway.

The next few days passed them by in a bit of a blur. They moved back to the house in Brooklyn. Sam and Bucky came with them but, surprisingly to Steve (but not to Katie) Wanda opted to head to Clint’s after the archer called and offered her a room. Steve’s time was divided between speaking to the UN, various people in the senate and government along with Rhodey as they stared to make plans to help those people who had returned and found themselves in tricky situations. Some found their wives or husbands had re-married, others found themselves homeless as new occupants had moved into their flats post them being vacant in the past 5 years. Two of those people were Peter Parker and his Aunt May, who were now residing in the Tower until Katie could find them an apartment. And then there were the kids who had been adopted suddenly found themselves with two sets of parents, although Emmy’s foster family never came looking for her. And it was a good job, as they would have been met not only by her parents but a former deadly assassin and an ex Para Rescuer ready to kick the shit out of them having learned from Steve and Katie one evening about the girl’s past.

No, reversing the snap had swung up a whole cacophony of different problems, but for the time being Katie had no time or energy for anything other than planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper, and a service of sorts for Natasha with Clint. Natasha’s was to take place first, a small ceremony at Clint’s farm where they would be planting a red maple tree in her honour. Tony’s was slightly more tricky. The Billionaire had led a very public lifestyle and naturally (even if unfairly) was attracting the most public interest. They’d been approached by President Ellis, who had asked if they would be open to the service being shown on larger, outside Televisions across Manhattan to avoid public crowding the area. Katie had been horrified at first, until Pepper had snorted and reminded her that the Old Tony would have loved the attention and fuss. But New Tony wouldn’t. Which was why they compromised and chose to celebrate the two sides to Tony’s huge personality. For the Genius, Billionaire, Play-Boy, Philanthropist they would hold a service at St Patrick’s Cathedral and for the husband, father, brother, friend they would then hold a more intimate wake at the house. Pepper was also going to plant a tree by the lake house, where his ashes would be scattered eventually. And there was also the matter of his will to go through as well, but they decided that could wait.

It was draining, emotionally and physically, so it was no surprise that Katie was constantly tired and a little irritable, Steve feeling the harsh side of her tongue on more than one occasion. But he never bit back, he knew how she was feeling. He’d had to do it with his Ma. Instead he listened to her bounce ideas off him, helped with the organisation, and simply comforted her when she needed it.

On the 6th day post the return of the Vanished, things on the surface had returned to some kind of normal. Almost a half-way-house between what it had been like before the Snap and what they had become post the Snap. But what was noticeable to all of them was that they were persistently mobbed in the street, people wanting to thank them constantly. Jamie found the whole thing hilarious, waving to people as he walked with his Father one morning to the play-ground. Steve, however, after half an hour had returned home because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s mad.” he said with a sigh, flopping onto the sofa “I mean…”

“It’ll die down.” Katie yawned, “Just take a while.” “You still feeling crappy?” he asked, watching as Jamie sat on the rug with his trucks.

“A little.” she said

“You thrown up again?” “No” she shook her head “I don’t feel sick anymore just drained. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Probably just the stress of all the organising and stuff.”

But as she said the words something in her mind clicked.

Tiredness. Sickness. Haywire emotions.

“Shit…” she whispered, sitting bolt upright and he looked at her. “Bruce’s Snap…”

“What about it?”

“What if it brought everyone back?” “Well we know it did…” he said, not following her line of thought.

“No I mean…” she took his hand and placed it on her stomach “everyone…”

It took him a second to cotton on, and he blinked, looking into his wife’s wide eyes.

“Shit…” he stuttered.

“Language.” Jamie said, almost immediately, but both parents ignored him.

“I didn’t…” Steve swallowed “I mean, I didn’t even consider that a possibility…do you think…”

Katie took a deep breath “I dunno, I mean the first snap took it away…”

They stayed still for a moment, simply looking at each other, both thinking the same. If one snap had taken their baby, the second snap could quite as easily have brought it back.

“I think I need to go to the store.” Katie muttered. Less than an hour later husband and wife were stood in the bathroom looking down. Down at four different tests. Four different tests that all told them the same thing.

“I can’t believe it…” Steve whispered, looking at his wife as she glanced up at him, tears in her eyes.

“Me neither…” she whispered.

“I’m gonna be a daddy…again.” he reached out to Katie, his eyes shining as she gave him a smile.

“And I’m gonna be fat again.” There was a pause before Steve’s face cracked into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms round his neck and he hugged her close, the pair of them laughing through their tears.

“I like you fat with my kid.” he said, pulling away and wiping the tears that were trickling down her face with his thumbs. She smiled and returned the gesture, brushing the back of her hand over his wet cheeks.

“I love you. So fucking much, my baby momma.” he said softly as he dropped a kiss to her lips and she whispered into his mouth

“I love you too, my baby daddy.”

And for the first time in days, Katie’s heart felt a little less broken. Tags

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #tony stark #iron man #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

So Close - S.S. XXVII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 27

Word-count: 3.7k+

A/N: so close kind of fell to the back burner for me for a little while, but you guys have been so amazing with all your likes and feedback on it that it makes me 💕💕 i’m hoping to write the end of this season in the next few days so they should be up soon!! thanks for sticking around and sharing this with me 💖

You weren’t sure what made you feel worse; the fact that Noah was shot or the fact that you weren’t there to help when it happened. You were trying to finish a chemistry lab that was due the next day. It was starting to feel like, no matter how present you were in one aspect of your life, another started to crumble when you weren’t looking.

And then you felt guilty because of how pretentious that sounded. Your name wasn’t on the deadpool. Your dad wasn’t the one in the hospital with a bullet stuck in his shoulder. Other than some scrapes and bruises, you were the most okay out of everyone in your friend group, so why did it feel like you were handling it the worst?

You didn’t have time to figure it out as you pulled into the parking lot of Beacon Hills Memorial and gathered up your stuff. It took you a minute to get the nurses - friends of your mom who wanted to know how the new relationship was going because ‘your first boyfriend can be a real challenge sometimes, dear’ - to leave you alone so you could track down Noah’s room.

When you got there, Noah was lying back in his hospital bed, his forearm barely resting on the book and stack of papers on his tray, and Stiles was collapsed into the armchair, looking tired and defeated, leaning his head in his hand as he watched his dad.

“There’s my two favorite guys. Don’t tell Scott I said that.” You’d drawn out the first part with a half-hearted smile and rushed to add the second. You closed the door gently behind you and made your way over to where Stiles was.

He smiled when he saw you but it was an empty sort of smile that left you feeling a little hollow as he straightened up to make space for you on the chair. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you settled in.

“The morphine’s pretty much knocked him out,” Stiles said, looking back at his dad. “I don’t think he’s telling anyone anything for a while.”

“At least he’s getting some rest,” you said quietly, ducking your head slightly so you tucked underneath Stiles’ chin as you moved your legs over his. “I’m not sure if he ever really sleeps.”

“Do you?”

You looked at your hands and how they fit with Stiles’ as you thought about his question. There were only some nights when you managed to sleep like you used to, but most of them were now filled with anxiety and a night-light. “No. Not really. Not without you.”

Stiles had a small, lopsided smile when you looked back at him, still playing with your interlaced fingers. “Yeah, yeah, I-” he tilted his head for a second, rethinking his words. “I don’t sleep without you either.”

---

You found Lydia waiting for you on the porch when you and Stiles finally got back to his house after what felt like an eternity at the hospital. Technically, she was waiting for Stiles but she liked that you were there to help connect the dots.

Stiles was visibly trying to connect them with red tape on his big conspiracy boards, sticking up a photo of Lorraine and Maddy on top of a photocopy of Lorraine’s code, but nothing was coming together in a helpful way.

“Lyd, I know you feel guilty about what happened with Meredith, but this wasn’t your fault,” you said as gently as you could when she finished talking. “Your grandmother was just trying to find someone like her; she didn’t mean for what happened to happen to Meredith.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened,” Lydia sniped. She sighed and rubbed her temples, stopping her pacing in front of the board again. In a strained, level voice, she continued, “My grandmother drove her to insanity and I drove her to suicide. The only difference between me and her is that she left me a piece of code, and I don’t know how to crack it.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out just like we always do.” Stiles attempted to comfort her by squeezing her shoulder lightly, but she didn’t visibly respond to that. “Why don’t the three of us take a day off tomorrow and figure this out?”

“You mean skip school?” Lydia asked. He nodded.

“Like, for the entire day?” you asked. He nodded again.

“Yes, that’s what skipping means, people!” Stiles sounded exasperated as he waved around his arms, but then he stopped when he saw you biting your lip. He softened his approach. “Why? What do you have tomorrow?”

“Detention if I miss another day,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “And probably a failing grade in geometry.”

“I can tutor you,” Lydia offered, big banshee eyes pleading with you to stay.

It broke your heart to see her looking so small and hopeful like that. You were about to give in when Stiles started speaking again.

“No, I’ll drop you off in the morning,” he said, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “I should probably go to at least one of my classes anyway.”

“Okay. Then I’ll meet you back here at around 09:30?” Lydia asked.

Stiles nodded and she started gathering up her stuff while you stared at the board. Something was missing but you couldn’t figure out what it was. You just needed one more dot and everything would-

“Hey.” Stiles interrupted your thoughts and you looked up at him. “Should I move these out of here or are you okay to get some sleep?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You stretched out on the bed and yawned. “I’ve got you, don’t I?”

“No matter what.”

---

“Stiles, I’m serious. Come pick me up and I’ll go to Eichen House with you guys,” you said for the millionth time into the phone. You were in the process of shoving books into your bag in an attempt to clean out your locker while Scott was at practice. “I literally couldn’t care less about some dumb bonfire.”

“I know, but this is kind of time-sensitive and I thought you were having a day of normal teenager things anyway,” he said. His voice sounded far away so he’d probably started driving again and put you on speakerphone.

“Yeah, but-”

“Going to a dumb bonfire is way more normal teenager than going to a mental institution,” Lydia chimed in. How long had she been listening? “I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece, sweetheart.”

Sighing, you weighed your options. Argue with the two people who knew how to argue circles around you or give up and seem supportive; both sounded horrid.

“Fine,” you said eventually. “But promise to text me when you get there and let me know when you’re on your way to the bonfire?”

“Won’t even use abbreviations,” Stiles said. You could hear the sarcastic smile in his voice. For someone who recently almost got killed, he seemed to think your anxiety was a lot funnier than you expected him to. “Don’t worry, babe, Lydia and I can handle this.”

“I know,” you sighed. You slammed your locker shut and leaned against it. “I love you dummies so you better be careful.”

“I always am.” Lydia’s sing-song voice drifted to your ears right before the call disconnect chime did.

You tried not to dwell on the nervousness in your stomach as you went to find Scott. Seriously, what kind of practice lasted until this late in the day? Stomping through the halls, you heard Coach yelling and figured that was a safe bet to find him.

Instead, you found Coach holding about a dozen printed pages in his hand as he tried to figure out how to shut off the printer, even more pages scattered all over the floor. They looked eerily familiar. You bent down to pick one up and realized why; it was an updated deadpool missing Derek, crossing out the names of the already dead, and upping Liam’s price.

Liam and Scott pulled you aside just as you finished reading it.

“What the hell is this?” you asked, echoing Coach and shoving the paper in Scott’s chest like it was his fault the list updated. An action, by the way, that you instantly regretted.

“Derek’s not on the list anymore,” Scott mumbled to himself instead of answering your question.

“And I’m not worth three million,” Liam said. “It’s eighteen now.”

---

Despite the new and terrifying deadpool, Scott still insisted you guys still go to the bonfire. He was the team captain, he said, and this way he could still keep an eye on Malia (if she showed up. None of you had heard from her since that day in the vault) and Liam and any other wolves that showed up. His reasoning didn’t change the bad feeling in your gut and the anxiety you felt when the two of you started walking around.

It didn’t take long to find Malia jumping around to electro-dance music, flask in hand and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. God, you wished you could compartmentalize like that.

“Let me talk to her?” you asked, catching Scott’s arm. He was about to say no when you gave him a look. “Please?”

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll try looking for Liam. Meet me at the bleachers in five?”

“You know it,” you said, squeezing Scott’s arm before heading over to Malia. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“That’s ‘cause I didn’t want to tell you.” Malia kept dancing but she must have sensed your unease because she stopped long enough to look at you. “This is the best place to get drunk on short notice.”

That made you laugh and she pulled you in a bit closer to sway with her. It reminded you of the trip to Mexico all those months ago - funny how things (and feelings) change with time. “You know that you guys can’t get drunk, right? Werewolves, I mean. It’s something to do with the healing, apparently.”

“Someone should try telling him that,” she said, nodding her head behind her just as she lifted her arm to give you a twirl. You spotted Liam on a bench with Mason holding a bottle covered by a paper bag. He took a huge swig as Scott made his way over to him.

“I think someone’s about to,” you mumbled, still uneasy. Malia kept dancing, not really paying any attention to you until you squeezed her hand. “You know I wanted to tell you, right? Stiles’s got it in his head that he’s the resident Malia expert but- well, I’m the Hale expert. I knew this thing was gonna blow up.”

“You know about my family?” Malia asked, thudding back to the ground and stopping to look at you. It was the first time she was still since you and Scott came over to talk to her.

“Yeah, I-” you stopped when you saw Liam toss a plastic bottle to the side and storm off. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll send you Cora’s number. You two should talk.”

Her complaints were drowned out by the music almost as soon as you started walking away from her. You had to jog slightly to catch up to Liam, hoping that Scott would go find Malia again.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his arm to force him to stop. “Hey, biscuit, look at me.”

“What?” He didn’t mean to snap as he turned around, but he also probably didn’t mean to stumble when he turned to look at you.

“I came to tell you that werewolves can’t get drunk, but I think you might be the exception.” You frowned and tightened your grip on his arm once he started swaying slightly on the spot. “Buddy, you okay?”

“Get Scott.” He seemed to have to force out the words.

“Okay, come on,” you said as you looped around Liam’s waist and he held onto your shoulders. “Let’s get you to Mason and then I’ll go find Scott, okay?”

By the time you got Liam to the bench where Mason was, Scott was already there with Malia and trying to get her to drink some water. “Oh no, Liam too?” he asked, sounding a little over his head.

Lucky for him, you went to a prep school before this. You knew what to do. You could hear Scott and Mason talking while you tried to get through to Liam. He might have to throw up before you could do anything. You were still holding his head and making sure Malia was drinking her water when Scott started stumbling.

“How much have you had to drink?” Mason asked him.

“He hasn’t had anything,” you said, taking Scott’s hand and trying to guide him to the bench. In a slightly lower voice, you asked, “It’s the deadpool, isn’t it?”

He nodded and tried to say something. He was feeling the effects a lot quicker than Liam and Malia had. “It’s the DJ. I’ve gotta- gotta stop him.”

“No, you need to get out of here,” you said, hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. “Mason will take you to the car and I’ll deal with the slice of wonderbread on stage, alright?”

He was still arguing when you walked away, telling Mason to keep an eye on them and try to get them to the car if he could. He asked where you were going and you made up something that sounded a little less ridiculous than ‘to stop the soundwaves that are killing my brother.’

You managed to get pretty close to the stage before the DJ made some hand signal and a guard tried to grab at you. You twisted out of the grip, pulling him forward, and bent his wrist back. Kicking him to the side, you kept going but his failed attack just caused more of the security to come after you.

One of them managed to get a hold of you and carried you off to the side, where Mason cut them off and started yelling at them to let go of his friend. It was kind of touching watching him yell at them like that; you didn’t know you were that close. It also provided an excellent distraction for you to kick the guard’s shin and elbow his solar plexus as you landed on the ground. You whacked him with the nightstick and looked at Mason.

“What are you?” he asked, more surprised than upset.

“Come on,” you smiled and grabbed his hand. “You ever destroy a power generator before?”

“No, have you?”

You didn’t answer as you led him back to the side of the stage that housed all the controls. You handed him the nightstick and told him to go wild before engaging Derek’s knife and climbing onto the stage. The DJ seemed less impressed with you than Mason had been.

“What the hell do you think-”

He didn’t get to finish because you kicked him in the legs, hard. Cutting the wire of his headphones, you leaned over to the mic on the mix-board. “Hey, guys? Someone called in about real cops heading this way,” you said. “The school security isn’t allowed to make arrests for underage drinking so-”

Then it was your turn not to finish your sentence. Kids started scattering and Mason finished abusing the electrical equipment, leaving an emptiness of the bonfire and teenage screaming in the space where the music had been before. The DJ started squirming away and you put your foot on his back and pressed down.

Knocking the wind out of him, you said. “You’re going to stay right here until my friends come back.” He spat some very dirty words at you and you rolled your eyes. You’d been called worse. “Hey, Mason, can you watch him for me?”

Mason nodded and scrambled on stage to tie the guy’s hands behind him. “Go find Liam.”

---

Growing up, you always heard people on TV talk about how much they hate hospitals, but to you it was just the place where your mom worked. Never anything special, just the place you went when your idiot brother broke a bone or your mom had a late shift and no one to watch you. Now it was where you went whenever someone tried to kill your friends.

You hated hospitals.

You got to Stiles’ room just as he finished an argument with your mom. Telltale signs of sulking and parental annoyance were in the air.

“Like cassettes?” Mel asked him.

“Yes, tapes,” Stiles said, sounding like they’d been going back and forth for a little while already. He caught your eye over your mom’s shoulder and smiled for a second.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” she said, backing up to start walking away before bumping into you. “Oh, hey, sweetie, how was the bonfire?”

“Killer,” you smiled as she kissed your cheek.

Melissa frowned, clearly not liking your answer but not having the time to deal with it just yet. “We’ll talk later.”

“Okay, but tapes, though, please,” Stiles called after her as she started to leave and you stepped into the room.

“Cassettes,” Mel said in her customer service voice before closing the door.

You started walking over to the bed and Stiles’ expression turned serious again. “Hey, I was still going to call but my phone’s in evidence and-” he stopped talking when you wrapped your arms around him and rested your chin on his shoulder, pressing your face to his cheek lightly. “And I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” you said softly, adjusting slightly to kiss his cheek as he wrapped a hesitant arm around you. “You are okay, right?”

“Aside from the concussion your mom says I have,” he said with a sigh. His free hand moved up to hold onto your arm that crossed his chest to meet your hand behind his head. Everything connected. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m too tired to be anything else.”

You didn’t know how to answer so you went back to holding onto him, tracing patterns on his upper back with your thumbs. The two of you were so close in the silence that you could hear his heartbeat. It was coming down, slowly, the longer you held him.

“Uh, Stiles?” you asked a little awkwardly after a few minutes as you shifted away from him slightly. “Do you have something in your pocket?”

“Huh?” he asked, sounding like you’d snapped him out of some daydream as he looked down. “Oh, yeah, one of Brunsky’s tapes. Did they say anything to you other than that I got almost killed?”

“I stopped listening after that,” you said as you pulled your legs up to cross them on the bed. Your shins rested on his thighs once he fug the tape out of his pockets. “What happened?”

“Meredith is the Benefactor. She was using Brunsky as a proxy because he’s an angel of death,” Stiles said as he handed you the cassette. “The serial killer kind, not the biblical kind.”

“I figured,” you said, pushing your hair out of your face so you could look at the tape properly. It was just a regular cassette with Lydia’s grandmother’s name in sharpie on the top. No different to the way Stiles scrawled the title to the breakup mix on the CD or the play me deadpool tape. “He always creeped me out in the stories you told me about Eichen House.”

“Eichen House creeped me out in my stories about Eichen House,” Stiles said with a sigh. He watched you turning over the tape in your hands, looking for something that told about what was on it. “But I wouldn’t worry. He’s dead now.”

You stopped flipping over the tape and looked up at him. He was haunted. Those tired eyes of his had seen too many people die in front of them. “But you’re still alive.”

“I always live,” Stiles said. He was looking at his hands. Did he see something in them or did he just not want to look at you? “Even when …”

You reached over to touch his hands when he didn’t say anything else. “Even when?”

“Even when I shouldn’t,” he said. Stiles’ voice was blunt as he looked up to meet your gaze. “I lived when other people should’ve instead.”

“You lived because you’re supposed to live,” you said, trying desperately to find some words in your brain to comfort him. Any words. “Because Batman doesn’t die, okay? Not until the story’s over.”

“I’ve been told I’m more of a Robin,” he mumbled, looking away from you again. “Besides I don’t think this story is ever ending. Not until we’re all dead.”

“Well, until it does, we’re in this together. You and me,” you said, leaning closer to put your other hand on the back of his neck. He looked up at you again, less blunt and more broken. “No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Stiles repeated, words sounding both slightly more and less sure than before. He swallowed and took a breath. “You know I love you, right? I know you’re not supposed to say that until you go on an actual date but it’s true and I almost died without saying it so. I love you.”

The question was such a one-eighty from you were talking about before that you had to make a conscious effort not to look surprised at the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “I love you, too, Stiles,” you said with a smile. “And you’re not going anywhere until we go on that date.”

He laughed lifted his hand to the side of your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. “Thanks,” he said. “I was kind of going crazy there for a second before you got there.”

“My mom can do that to a person,” you said, nodding slowly as Stiles moved a little closer to you. “She’s sure you’re okay?”

“They wanna do another CT scan but she’s pretty sure. Just gotta stay awake until the concussion fades. Shouldn’t be too hard, I’ve got like a decade’s worth of practice thanks to the insomnia,” Stiles said.

“I’ll stay with you until you get released,” you said gently, trying to bring him out of those memories you could see playing behind his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

You know he meant for a lot more than just staying with him. You squeezed his hand. “Vending machine food and Netflix on my phone?”

“Like there’s anything else I’d rather do.”

Part 28

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #so close #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

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